Fears
by transformedstarwarsgal
Summary: They had fought through everything together. Through energon, coolant and more energon, Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus always came out on top, still as in love as they had always been. Will an illness too horrible for words be enough to finally tear them apart? Optimus Prime/Ultra Magnus
1. Coming Home

_He keeps it all inside him and smiles through all my fears._

_He laughs and dances as if he feels no pain._

_He does this to protect me;_ _So my tears will not be falling like warm summer rain._

(snippet from the poem My Hero by Bonnie S. Walden)

**Units of Time Being Used in This Story**

Astro-second: half of a second

Nano-klick: second

Klick: minute

Breem: hour

Jour: Day

Deca-cycle: week

Orn: month

Vorn: year

**Chapter 1: Coming Home**

Running up the steps of his apartment complex, a huge grin on his silver faceplate and a duffle-pack slung over his shoulder, Ultra Magnus grabbed his key-card from subspace, and slid it into the lock to grant him access to the building. It had been a long time since he was this joyful—the last time was either when he bonded with his sparkmate or when the war between the Decepticons and Autobots ended. But both of those things had been a while ago, at least a few thousand vorns each. And nothing even mildly interesting had happened since.

Now, after being off-world for two orns on a training mission, Magnus was elated to finally get home and be with his sparkmate, who he had missed seeing desperately. Yes, they shared a sparklink, but when they were so far away from one another only emotions got through—and those weren't even as strong as usual. Obviously Magnus knew that this was better than absolutely nothing at all, but he still missed hearing his mate's soft baritone through the bond, and seeing that beautiful, half-smile in the morning when they both still had a fog around them.

He waves at the security-bot, Foghorn, as he walks into the large lobby of the apartment complex.

"Ultra Magnus, welcome back!" Slice, the front desk attendant, exclaimed in his usual perky voice. He smiled a bright full-denta grin when Magnus walked over to him. "I didn't know you were coming home so soon."

"An explosion injured half of the group. They decided to send everyone who was uninjured home early to keep us safe," Magnus explained, readjusting the heavy pack on his backstruts that carried his extra armor that couldn't fit in his subspace.

Slice nodded in understanding. "Does Optimus know?"

"No, he doesn't—I just learned that I was going home yesterjour, and didn't really have time to send a comm. to Cybertron." Magnus sighed contentedly. He was so happy to be home. "I also want to surprise him," he said with a rare, playful smirk.

Slice leaned over the desk a little, beaming as he listened to the much older mech talk. He had always been a sucker when it came to hearing about these two mechs. He still remembered the holo-news reports when they had announced that they were courting—some were more accurate than others. _'Lord Prime Courts Security Guard! Incredible Fact or Hilarious Fiction?' _was one of the more fragged-up articles that the reporters had printed. It had, in disgustingly amazing detail, explained why Ultra Magnus was a bad choice for the Prime. Even listing off a a list of fifty-something reasons why they shouldn't bond.

Thankfully, it hadn't done anything to the amount of love those two mechs held for each other and now their five-thousand vorn anniversary was coming up in a few orns.

"Well, lucky for you, I saw him go up to your apartment two or so breams ago so he'll probably still be awake."

"Good," Magnus said, still not able to keep the cheeky grin from his faceplate. "Oh, by the way, did he ever change the locks for the door?" They had to periodically change the passcode for their apartment since Optimus was such an important mech, and Magnus really didn't want to ruin everything by getting locked out of his own apartment. More than a couple times, Magnus had been locked out because he couldn't remember the new code.

"Uh…" Slice started typing on his console, before nodding his helm. "He did. About a deca-cycle ago, there was a burglary in one of the apartments bellow your's so we all thought it safe to change the system completely. You now have one of the most high-tech security systems on Cybertron." Slice disappeared underneath the desk for a klick before popping back up with a key-card that looked like an Autobot symbol.

'_Cute_,' Magnus thought.

"Use this to get in tonight, but tomorrow you're gonna need to scan your data-signature into the security system's database before leaving the apartment," Slice explained, handing Magnus the little Autobot symbol. "Throw that away after cause I'm going to take it out in the morning."

"Alright. Good recharge cycle, Slice." Subspacing the card, Magnus waved goodbye and walked towards the only lift that went to the very top of the huge complex. It was the only one designed to go to the Prime apartment, that took up about an entire floor (even if they only used about half of the rooms). Magnus still found it amusing to think about how much has changed in his life. He had grown up in a home half the size of their berth-room.

He slid back the barely-there panel on the button-dashboard, where another button was kept hidden from untrained optics. Hitting the button, Magnus stood in the empty lift as it carried him up, closer and closer to his mate.

When the lift stopped and the doors slid open, Magnus all-but ran through the long corridor. No mechs or femmes lived on this floor—except for him, of course- so he didn't need to worry about waking anyone. And his quarters had such thick walls to protect them from any and all types of attacks, that it was practically soundproofed. There was only one hallway on the floor, the rest dedicated to the apartment and a couple storage rooms that held extra weaponry and energon.

He stopped running when he reached the door at the end of hall. It was a simple, silver sliding door with an area on the base that looked like a optic-scanner. This must be the upgrade Slice was tailing about, since Ultra Magnus didn't recognize it from when he left orns ago. For a klick, Magnus searched the door for a key-card in vain before he saw a small control panel with a little slot.

He put the card in the lock and the doors slid open.

When you walked into the apartment, you entered the main hallway first, three doors on either wall. The farthest on the left of him was the washracks, the one across from that was one of the few well-kept guest rooms (it's not like they had a lot of over-night guests) and the rest were either storage or extra guest rooms that were rarely touched.

Walking into the main sitting-room, where the vid-screen and energon dispenser were, Magnus threw his pack unceremoniously onto the sofa in the middle of the large room. He was so tempted to just drop next to his pack and recharge right there, but his need to hold his mate in his arms was stronger. At the moment.

All of the lights in the apartment were off, the only light being given off was the artificial light of Cybertron's buildings and a little sliver of light was coming from one of the rooms on the other end of the apartment—Optimus's study.

Magnus smiled. The door was open a crack, just enough to let a stream of light flow out. Not able to resist seeing his mate any longer, Magnus walked over to the door and quietly pushed it open.

Optimus's study was one of the largest rooms in the apartment, besides their berthroom. Three out of four of the walls had been converted into data-pad shelves, and they were coated in pads on every subject you could ever want to know about—there was barley any space for new ones.

When it came to furniture, there wasn't anything impressive. There was a cushioned chair in the corner of the room with a small table next to it, holding a few data pads; a vid-screen was on the wall, though Optimus rarely, if ever, used it.

There was one other piece of furniture in the room, and someone was currently occupying it-a desk made of simple metals. Sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair, helm resting in the palm of his servo, elbow resting on the desk, reading a data pad, was Optimus Prime. Since his backstruts were facing the door, and Magnus was exceptionally good at being silent when he wanted, Optimus didn't seem to have noticed the other mech just yet.

Good.

Being quiet as a glitch-mouse, Magnus approached his oblivious mate. Optimus still didn't seem to know he was there, as Magnus crept closer and closer. When he was only a few feet away, he reached out his servo and ran it along the base of Optimus's spinal column.

"Frag!" Optimus leapt from his chair like he just been shot at, spinning around to face Magnus, his servos up in a defensive position. He glared at Magnus, old battle-code firing back up when it thought he was being threatened, until his CPU actually realized who it was. His facemask slid back into his helmet, revealing that beautiful mouthplate. His arms dropped to his side and he looked like he was about to cry, electric blue optics glistening with coolant.

"…Magnus…"

"Hello, lo—" Magnus was interrupted when two large arms wrapped around his neck, and lip-plates pressed against his. He kissed back, grabbing Optimus by the waist to pull him closer.

Optimus broke the kiss nano-klicks later, staring into Magnus's deep cobalt optics. His arms were still wrapped tightly around his mate's neck, and Magnus's were around his waist. Until Optimus pushed him back at arms length to check for anything—dents, scratches, other mechs' paints- that wasn't there before. After his quick inspection, Optimus didn't find anything unnerving, only something surprising.

"Magnus, when did you get this?" Optimus questioned, running his servo against Magnus's audio receptor. There were a few engravings on it—the words loyalty and courage, and of course Optimus's marking. Sparkmates were expected to have their mate's engraving; he had Magnus's on his left audio receptor. But that wasn't what surprised him—the new one was what surpassed him.

The engraving for _Prime Consort _was carved Magnus's right audio receptor.

"One of the other Enforcers thought it was high-time I publicly labeled myself as the Prime's Official Consort." Magnus leaned down ever so slightly to give his mate a quick peck on the cheek-plate. "I couldn't have agreed more."

"But…" Optimus stopped when Magnus kissed him again, "I thought you didn't want to label yourself as my consort. If you do, that means that—"

"Hush," Magnus whispered, placing his digit against Prime's lip-plates, successfully silencing him. "Yes, I understand that it could mean that others will try to court you, but I trust you not to allow them to get too close. You are mine and mine alone."

"Primus, I have missed you," Optimus murmured. He looked up at Magnus with a slightly annoyed expression, mixed with amusement. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to be home so soon? I would have tidied up the apartment a bit." He looked around the study, at all the data pads scattered around on the small amount of furniture and some where even on the floor.

"I wanted to surprise you, of course." He grabbed Optimus's servos and lead him towards the door. Guiding his mate out of the study, he sat on the sofa in the sitting-room, pulling Optimus down onto his lap. Since his mate was not a lot smaller than him, it wasn't extremely comfortable for Magnus, but he didn't care. Besides, Optimus looked a lot heavier than he actually was. "All I could think of while I was away was being here, wrapping my servos around you, hearing you purr when I touch your neck…"

Optimus purred as Magnus stroked his neck, burrowing into the mech's chestplates.

"…Stop teasing me…"

"Oh, trust me, that's not teasing. This is teasing," Magnus joked, as he ran an outstretched servo down his sparkmate's backstruts, cupping the pert aft and squeezing lightly. Optimus yelped in surprise and glared at his sparkmate. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have the sexiest scowl?"

Optimus laughed half-sparkedly, kissed Ultra Magnus again, and stood up from his mate's lap. He walked towards their recharging quarters, hips swinging with every step, on the other side of the room, grabbing the handle and turning his helm over his shoulder to look back at Magnus. "Coming?" he asked with light amusement in his voice.

"Of course," Magnus murmured, standing and following his mate into their room.


	2. The Symptoms

**Chapter 2—Symptoms**

Magnus woke up early the next morning, unusual for him but it was probably just being in a new berth after so long—he should go back to his usual routine of recharging as late as sentiently possible fairly soon. Careful to not disturb the recharging mech next to him, he lifted the arm off his chest and placed it back on the berth. Shifting himself ever so slowly, as to remove his weight from the berth without altering the distribution too much, Magnus finally got off and left their berth room, closing the door behind him. Optimus deserved as much recharge as he could possible get.

Moving his duffle-pack onto the floor, Magnus sat on the four-bot sofa in the sitting-room and grabbed the controller for the vid-screen. He couldn't find anything even mildly interesting on this early in the morning so he just decided on the news, tossing the remote to the side and relaxing into the plush cushions.

"I_s Optimus Prime getting old?!"_

Magnus stared at the screen, confused, when the reporters mentioned his sparkmate's name. 'What rubbish are they trying to sell this time?' he thought bitterly. When they talked about Optimus's age, he scoffed aloud, wincing when he remembered his sparkmate recharging in their berthroom. Optimus was no where even close to old—he was only a few thousand vorns older than the legal age of adulthood.

'Might as well listen to these buffoons reasoning, I suppose.'

"_I think so, Spitshine!_" One reporter declared, laughing rather pathetically and practically beaming at camera. "_We caught this exclusive footage of our Prime and savior acting like he's a million and one vorns old!_"

The screen left the two reporter-bots and showed what looked to be a view from a hidden camera of his sparkmate. Optimus was sitting in an energon stop, in the corner of the room, just drinking an energon cube. Nothing out of the ordinary. It was when he stood up that Magnus saw what these reporters were freaking out about. Optimus seemed to just randomly drop his quarter-full cube of energon seemingly unprovoked. The cube fell to the floor, shattering.

The clip changed to another shot of Optimus, this time he was giving a speech. The volume had been cut so Magnus did not know of what Optimus was saying, but he looked as passionate about it as always. For a few nano-klicks, nothing particular happened, and Magnus was starting to wonder why they were showing this, when Optimus finished the speech and walked away from the podium. He looked like he was in pain, gripping his right leg for dear life, as he walked off the stage, struggling not to limp.

Magnus's optics widened when he saw more quick clips of Optimus stumbling, tripping, accidentally breaking things, randomly dropping data pads and energon cubes. There were so many. In the time span of two klicks, they had somehow managed to squeeze at least fifty clips of Optimus "acting older." When the screen went back to the two newsbots, Magnus shut it off.

He jumped a mile and a half when he heard a yell come from his quarters.

**Ten Klicks Earlier**

Bright blue optics flared to life as their owner awoke from recharge cycle. Letting out a large yawn, processor foggy as it rebooted to its usual speed, Prime sat up with a light groan. His joints ached when he moved them, and his muscle cables felt tighter than usual. He assumed it was from his rather "playful" antics with his sparkmate the night before. They had really been going at it. Teasing hidden wires, re-finding old 'hot spots,' and reestablishing their love for one another.

He looked over to the other side of the berth, frowning when he didn't seen his sparkmate there. He had been hoping that they could cuddle for a bit, until Optimus had to go to the Command Center and Magnus had to go the Enforcer Station. Well, maybe Magnus hasn't left the apartment yet, it is still a bit early.

Stretching his taunt cables enough so he wasn't as stiff, Optimus got off the berth. As he stood up, his muscle cables tightened to amounts that shouldn't have been possible. When the pain snaked its way from the back of his legs up to the base of his spinal strut, he crumbled to the floor—he let out a shout of agony when his chassis hit the hard ground with a loud thud. His legs weren't able to hold his weight when they were this stiff, and the sheer pain just made him not want to move ever again as both of the limbs cramped up on him. Lying as still as physically possible, Optimus waited for the anguish to cease.

He knew it couldn't last forever.

"Optimus, what's wro—?" Magnus stopped dead when he saw his sparkmate on the floor of their quarters in the fetal position, pain tearing through the bond like a solar storm. He actually had to grab at his chestplates from the shear amount of agony that his mate was going through. He ran over the mech, attempting to roll him onto his back, only to get his servos batted away. "Optimus, you need to lie flat," he urged.

"C-c-cramp," Optimus ground out through closed dentas, "It'll go 'way if I stay still."

Magnus was going to say something more, argue that it'd be best if Optimus was on his back, but decided against it and simply sent reassurance and love through the bond. It was all he could do for now. Running a gentle servo down his sparkmate's backstruts, whispering words of encouragement, he waited for the cramping to stop. It took a few klicks, but finally Optimus began to visibly relax, slowly turning over to look into Magnus's optics with his own tired ones.

Carefully, wary to not hurt his sparkmate any further, Magnus picked Optimus up bridal style and placed him on the berth. He sat down next to his mate on the berth.

"Do you think you need to go to the hospice? Or will you be alright?" Ultra Magnus questioned, worried about Optimus. He knew that Optimus would deny any need for a medic, and if he did say yes Magnus might have panicked, but that didn't mean he was expecting Prime's answer.

"I'll be fine, Magnus, this isn't anything new."

His optics widened. "Isn't new?! How long has this been happening?" Magnus questioned, starting to panic.

"A few deca-cycles ago. I went to see Ratchet and he told me that one of my muscle cables were taut and that it should heal itself in a deca-cycle or so," Optimus explained, wincing slightly when Magnus placed a servo on one of his legs. They were still tender.

"Than shouldn't this be gone by now?" Magnus retracted his servo, placing it on his own lap.

"I suppose."

_What kind of scrap answer is that?_ Magnus said silently, not allowing the words to pass his lip-plates. "I think we should go to the hospice, just in case something _is_ wrong."

"I will be fine, love, I promise." Optimus sat up, gave Magnus a quick kiss on the cheek, and slowly swung his legs off the berth and onto the floor. It took a klick for him to stop vented so harshly from the tingling pain, but he was able to stand up, albeit on incredibly shaky legs.

Optimus took a hesitant step, testing his legs strength, and took another when he didn't collapse. After a few steps, he was able to walk without _looking_ like it was painful. That didn't mean it wasn't as if needles were being jabbed into his sensitive protoform.

"What time is it?" Optimus asked once he reached the doorway.

"07:38 breams," Magnus answered simply, following his mate out of their berthroom and into the siting room. Optimus sat down in the recliner while Magnus went back to the sofa.

"Alright, I have to go give a speech about the peace treaty with Paxion at 08:30 breams," Optimus thought allowed. He looked over at Magnus. "I should probably go wash to try to work out the tension in my muscle cables before than, shouldn't I?"

"That would be the wise idea," Magnus answered, shrugging. He stood up, and walked over to the energon dispenser in the corner of the room—he turned to look over his shoulder-strut, directly at his sparkmate. "Want some?"

Optimus was silent for a moment. "Please?"

Magnus chuckled, hitting a few buttons on the machine until two, closed, mid-grade energon cubes came out. He walked over to his sparkmate, and handed him the cube.

Optimus took it from his sparkmate, taking a small sip. "Thank you, love," he murmured between another drink of the warm, sweet liquid he had grown so accustomed to over the 27,000 vorns he had been alive.

"You're welcome." Magnus walked over to where he had placed his cube, on the center-table in the (shocker) center of the room. Opening it, he began drinking his energon, sitting down on the sofa. He watched his sparkmate like his life depended on it, as Optimus drank small amounts of energon at a time. He would take a sip, stop to intake, and then take another small sip. Sip, intake, sip. Ever since they had met, thousands of vorns ago, Optimus had always done this. Magnus never understood it, and every time he asked why, Optimus would simply state that he doesn't know he does it. That it must have been a habit he picked up from younglinghood.

Magnus rarely pressed the matter.

* * *

Cameras flashed, newsbots asked questions, and his bodyguards successfully blocked most of him him from view as Optimus Prime walked up to the stage in the center of Iacon. He stood in front of the podium, his facemask covering his mouthplate. Scanning the crowd, seeing common 'bots mixed with security intel just in case something went wrong, all of them watching him. Most wanted to know what he was going to say, some wanted to make sure he was safe, and some desperately hoped that he would mess up.

In the very back of the crowd, talking into his commlink, looking incredibly professional with his blaster attached to his hip and the Enforcer symbol strapped to his shoulder, was Ultra Magnus. The mech looked up, like he knew that Optimus had zeroed his optics on him, and smiled warmly at his mate. It was as if he could sense Optimus's nervousness—oh wait, he could. Even without the bond, Magnus knew how much Optimus loathed public speaking; Prime had told him time and time again that he was terrified of all the flashing and optics watching his every move, audios absorbing every sound he made.

~You got this~ Magnus whispered over the bond, sending reassurance and love with.

Feeling a lot less nervous knowing that his sparkmate was there, Optimus Prime cleared his throat and the crowd fell silent.

"Fellow Cybertronians, I am proud to inform you that the hostility between Cybertron and Paxion has finally ended. Both Simpsus Rike and I have agreed that our people are more important than a simple argument. So, as of yesterjour, a treaty has been signed. This treaty states that Cybertron will build a SpaceBridge in Paxion's proximity, and in return they will allow us to mine for energon there. We will be sending out a team of engineers to go to Paxion to begin the construction of the Bridge immediately, as well as minors." Optimus paused, knowing the next thing he would say was not going to go over very well. "The minors will most likely be transferred permanently."

Just as Optimus had expected, a fair amount of the crowd became very hostile, yelling obscenities at their Prime. All of them were either minors or family. The mechs and femmes were screaming "You slaggers expect us to live thousands of lightvorns away from home?!" and "We'll never leave! You can't make us! Fragger!" There were even a few threats towards Optimus's life. A few even tried to jump on stage, barely being held back by the Enforcers.

Optimus knew that he had to stop this before it got out of servo.

"_ENOUGH!_"

The crowd of 'bots fell silent, staring at Optimus. Shocked.

"This decision was not made easily. I attempted every other idea to help our people, without sending so many away from home, but there is no other choice. Cybertron needs as much energon as we can get. If you are being transferred, we will contact you soon."

A small newsbot spoke up. "Optimus Prime, sir, will the minors every return home?"

"It is a possibility, but a slim one. I am sor—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Optimus collapsed. His body began twitching, growing more and more violent as he seized. All control over his own systems were lost, and Optimus was terrified. He had never felt like this, and his processor was slowing down, unable to finish any of his thoughts. The last words he could hear were Ironhide shouting, "Get a medic!" before his blacked out.


	3. More Questions

**Chapter 3: More Questions **

"_Optimus!"_

It felt as if his whole world had just stopped moving as Magnus watched the love of his life collapse on the ground, knocking the microphone he had been previously talking into over. The crowd, now full of terrified mechs and femmes, was too thick for Magnus to get a clear view of his sparkmate. All he could really see was Ironhide running up to the podium, and kneeling down behind it. He reached out for Optimus through the bond, thankfully feeling no pain. What he did feel, though, was worse. The bond was a swirling vortex of terrified distress.

And then he felt nothing.

Optics wide to the point of practically filling his whole faceplate, Magnus pushed his way through the crowd, actually knocking a poor mech over who wasn't moving fast enough. He shot him a quick "Sorry" that he was almost positive the mech didn't hear, and continued forcing his way through. Finally, he reached the front of the crowd and saw his sparkmate. Optimus was lying on the ground, seizing violently. Ironhide and Silverpaw (head bodyguard for Optimus) were attempting to hold him down, and Ironhide yelled for someone to get a medic over and over again—apparently there were no medical personal on the premises. Magnus attempted to run up to the stage, to his sparkmate, when he was grabbed from behind and held back.

He whipped around faster than a mech his mass should be able and glared at two of Optimus's bodyguards. _New ones,_ he mused silently. "Let me go," he growled, shaking his arms out of their grip, optics narrowing into tiny slits of cobalt.

"No one is allowed onstage—Ironhide's orders," the taller of the two guards said, reaching forward to grab Magnus again.

"I'm Prime's sparkmate," Ultra Magnus said, moving out of the mech's reach. He turned his helm to look at the stage—Ratchet, CMO of the medical department, had finally arrived and was yelling at the younger medics who were holding Prime down, while he struggled to remove his facemask. Magnus couldn't tell what he was saying over the crazed crowd of mechs and femmes around him.

He looked back at the guards when one of them spoke. "I'm sorry, sir, but we still cannot let you onstage. Consort or not."

Magnus was ready to punch the mech in the faceplate. He wanted—no, _needed_- to be by his sparkmate's side right now. He had no time for these mech's slag. He took a deep intake, clearing his thoughts…and bolted up the stairs of the stage. He could hear the guards ordering him to come back, but he really didn't give a flying frag at the current moment. Once he finally reached his mate, Ratchet was leaning over his convulsing form and injecting what Magnus assumed was a sedative into his neck. Optimus stopped seizing nano-klicks after.

One of the guards that he had run away from attempted to grab at him again, but Ironhide, who had stood to give the medics room to check Prime over, held up his servo to stop them.

"Leave 'im alone."

"Yes sir," the two mechs said, saluting Ironhide and walking off. As they left, Magnus could just barely hear them muttering about his acting like he is better than them and does not need to listen to any rules.

"Thank you," Magnus murmured, not looking at the Head of Security, as he watched Ratchet check his sparkmate over. Optimus's frame was dangerously still, his chestplates barely moving, even after Ratchet began administering cardiopulmonary resuscitation—which consisted of the medic shoving a clear plastic tube into Optimus's intakes and squeezing a pump to circulate at least some air through the overheating mech's systems. .

"We need to get him to the hospice, now!" Ratchet ordered, barking at the younger medics to help lift Optimus onto the gurney they had brought. Two of the medics, both mechs, squatted down to grab Prime and lifted him in the air, the third keeping the intubation tube secure in Prime's throat. They carefully laid him on the gurney and Ratchet strapped him down. Pushing the gurney to the edge of the stage, legs folding so they could safely move Optimus towards the ambulance-mech waiting for them.

They got Optimus inside, and sped off.

A servo was placed on Ultra Magnus shoulder. He looked at the white and black mech staring at him. Prowl. "Jazz is going to escort you to the hospice, Ultra Magnus. Optimus will need you."

Magnus could only nod, untrusting of his voicebox not to crack under the building pressure in his throat. Jazz walked up to him, a comforting smile on his faceplate, and gestured towards the road. Ultra Magnus followed Jazz offstage, ignoring every single mech and femme in the area, whom still had no answers to any of the questions swirling through their processors, and transformed into his alt-mode. It was a large truck-form, common amongst larger mechs, made to carry heavy loads. Not for speed.

Jazz transformed after him, into a sleek racing-form, perfect for a spy that needs to get away quickly. And for showing younger mechs who's king of the streets. "Let's get goin'," he said, his usually uplifting tone practically gone. Engines started, and the two mechs left for the hospice.

xXxXx

They had been sitting in the waiting room for the past two breams, waiting for any word on Optimus's condition. The medics had rushed Prime to Ratchet's hospice, the best on the planet, and rushed him into what everyone assumed was an operating theater of sorts, without the viewing room. Ultra Magnus had been ordered by one of the medics to keep the bond completely closed, and refused to give a reason as to why. He only said that it was immensely important that the bond stay closed until Optimus is stable. Magnus agreed, albeit unenthusiastically, and shut his end of the bond off.

Now, with the blue and silver mech's patience dwindling to a sliver of what it usually is, Ultra Magnus was sitting in one of the only chairs in the small room made for his frame-type, hunched over himself so he was looking directly at his peds. Magnus just wanted to know what was wrong with his sparkmate. He desperately needed to know that Optimus was going to be okay. And if he didn't get word soon, he was sure he would go insane.

"Mags, 'e's gonna be akay," Jazz murmured from his seat next to the distressed mech. He knew that his words weren't going to do scrap to help Magnus, but he needed to get the words out. It was too quiet. Jazz could tell that if he didn't speak, Magnus would think too much and torture himself. "Prime's a fighter, ya kno' 'dat."

"I…know…" was all Magnus could get out of his vocal processor, burying his faceplate in his servos to hide the tears glistening his optics. Jazz decided, for once, not to continue speaking.

Forty-six klicks, thirty-two nano-klicks, and twelve astro-seconds went by before a medic came into the waiting room. The femme, a light shade of violet and pink with splashes of red here and there (it looked as if she had just flicked bits of paint onto her armor), seemed to be exhausted as she walked over to the only occupants of the room. Jazz lightly bumped Magnus's shoulder-strut to get the mech to look up from his servos.

"I'm assuming you are Ultra Magnus," the femme said, smiling at Magnus to attempt to hide her tiredness. When he nodded, she continued. "Well, we were able to stabilize Lord Prime for the meantime, and he is currently recharging in a private room. I will let CMO Ratchet inform you of everything later."

"Can I see him?" Magnus asked, tempted to stand, but pushed it down. He didn't want to risk the femme not allowing him to see his sparkmate for being too enthusiastic.

"Of course you may, as you are Lord Prime's consort, but your companion will have to wait here, or leave." the femme gestured to Jazz, giving the black and white mech a quick glance. "It is well past visiting hours so only family is allowed to be in the room whilst Lord Prime remains unconscious. If he awakens and requests your presence, you may enter."

"Oh, don' worry 'bout me. I gots ta' get back to the command centa' anyways," Jazz said, standing up from the chair he had been occupying for almost three breams. "See ya Mags, give Prime mah best."

"Thank you for staying with me, Jazz," Magnus murmured, standing up. The TIC brushed it off with a light wave of his servo, and left nano-klicks after. The two 'bots, Magnus and the medic he still didn't know the designation of, until the femme spoke.

"Let's get you to Lord Prime's room, I suppose."

Magnus followed her out of the waiting room and through halls until they reached a lift. Once they were both inside and the doors had closed, the femme hit _36_ on the panel and the lift began rising.

"My name's Sunswing, by the way," the femme, who now had a name, said as the lift continued on up. "I'm the head epileptologist on Cybertron. Thankfully, I usually work at CMO Ratchet's hospice so I was able to assist when Lord Prime—"

Magnus interrupted her from going any further, and asked the question that had been swirling through his processor since she told him that Optimus was stable. "Am I able to open the bond?"

Sunswing glared at Magnus for a moment, loathing being interrupted. Especially by a mech. She quickly regained her professional features, hiding any anger. "I believe so, but it would be wise for you to speak with CMO Ratchet beforehand. Just in case."

"Okay."

The lift stopped and they exited, Sunswing leading Magnus down pure white hallways. The hall they were walking through had around ten doors on each side and every time they turned a corner, the next hall had another ten doors on each side. _This hospice is colossal_, Magnus thought, as they rounded yet another corner and entered a hall with an additional twenty or so doors.

The femme stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall on the left. There were two mechs that Magnus did not recognize standing in front of it, blasters attached to their hip-plates. They had been talking to one another about an attractive mech nurse they had seen a few klicks ago when Sunswing walked over, showing them her badge. They saluted her, and allowed her to enter the room. When Magnus tried to follow, they put their frames between him and the door.

_Not again_, Magnus growled silently. This was the second time in a jour that security guards he didn't know had kept him from his sparkmate.

"Identification," one guard ordered.

"Ultra Magnus, Enforcer and sparkmate of Optimus Prime." Magnus had taken off his shoulder strap that identified him as an Enforcer when they had arrived, and put it in his subspace. His blaster had been confiscated by the main security 'bots when he entered the hospice, but the engravings on his helmet identifying him as Optimus's and Optimus as his couldn't be removed.

They looked at his audio receptor and nodded in respect, moving out of the way so Magnus could enter his mate's room. He walked through the door, and his tanks dropped.

Optimus was lying on a medberth, an air mask covering the lower half of his faceplate. His chest was now moving much more than when Magnus saw him on the stage, every breath in time with the spark rate monitors beeping. Without the wires connecting him to multiple machines, that were hanging ominously above him, Prime didn't look that bad. Magnus had definitely seen mechs in much rougher shape, including his sparkmate during the war.

Sunswing was standing at the ped of the berth, reading over a data pad. She looked over at Ultra Magnus, who still hadn't moved from his spot at the door. "You can take a seat, you know?" She commented, looking back down at the data pad that showed Lord Prime's vitals, gesturing to the chair next to the medberth. Magnus didn't move. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, I just…hate seeing him like this," Magnus murmured, walking over to the chair and sitting down. He pulled it forwards a bit, so that he was closer to his sparkmate. He moved some of the thin thermal blanket covering his mate's frame and grabbed the unconscious mech's servo.

"Alright," Sunswing said, awkwardly chuckling and placing the data pad down. "I'll be going now. CMO Ratchet will probably come by to check on Lord Prime some time later, though he's a busy mech so he may send one of his lackeys."

Magnus gave her a questioning look for the "lackeys" comment, but Sunswing just smiled and left.

Turning back to his sparkmate, watching the slow rise and fall of his crimson chest plates, the gates began to collapse. The tears he had been hiding, barely holding inside his optics, finally started poring out full force. He wasn't even really sure why he was crying. His sparkmate was alive, and from the fact that he was now stable, there was a large chance he'd stay alive. But Magnus was still crying. And it wasn't loud crying. It was silent tears that got caught in his throat, making him gag, coolant staining his silver faceplate.

He continued crying for what felt like breams, even though it was only ten klicks. Gripping Optimus servo as if his life depended on it, tears dripping onto his sparkmate, Magnus continued to cry until he felt the servo twitch. His helm shot upwards, worried that Optimus may be having another seizure, only to see two electric blue optics staring at him, their usually bright glow dampened from exhaustion. A small smile graced itself on Optimus's faceplate, still covered by the air mask.

Releasing Optimus's servo so that he could wipe his tears away, Magnus smiled back. Running his digits along Prime's helm, over his blue and silver crest, across his ultra-sensitive antenna. Optimus seemed to purr at the sensations, though the mask muffled it into a musky growl.

"How are you feeling, love?" Magnus asked, continuing to massage his mate's audio receptor.

"…tired…" Optimus murmured, so quietly that Magnus could just barely pick it up. "…What…hap…en…?"

"What happened?" Magnus repeated, making sure he heard Prime right. Optimus nodded ever so slightly. "I was just recently allowed to come see you, so Ratchet hasn't told me exactly what happened yet. All I know is that you had a seizure and they rushed you to the hospice."

Optimus merely nodded to say that he understood what Magnus had said. He was going to ask another question, when the door of his room opened and in walked an orange and white mech with medic symbols—the generic medical professional insignia and, of course, the symbol for Chief Medical Officer- on either shoulder. Ratchet walked over to the couple, moving around Ultra Magnus to check Optimus's vitals. His scanner ran over Optimus's body, the light shining a translucent blue for the duration of the scan.

"Electropulse is steady. Intake Filters seem to be operational," he muttered to no one as he continued to check over Optimus. "I'm just going to assume you want the mask off?"

Optimus nodded.

"I'll take it off. Once I've completely removed it, I need you to take a deep intake, alright?" When Optimus nodded his understanding, the medic carefully lifted his helm just slightly and unclipped the latch holding the air mask on. Slowly, wary as to not stress the Prime's systems, Ratchet pulled the mask off of his faceplate. As instructed, Optimus intaked air as much as his filters could handle, holding it for a nano-klick before exhaling.

"…Thank you," Optimus said, his voice hoarse and painful. He moved around on the berth a little, restless. "Can I sit up, please?" Without saying a word, Ratchet grabbed the remote for Optimus's medberth, and pressed the arrow pointing upwards. The head of the berth slowly rose until Optimus was lying at about a fifty degree angle.

"There," Ratchet said, putting the remote down and grabbing a chair, he placed it at angle near Ultra Magnus's so that he was looking directly at both mechs and sat down. He leaned back in the chair, thankful to finally be off his aching peds after such a long work shift. "Now, I'm sure you two want to know what happened."

Both mechs nodded.

"Ok, well, I'm not sure yet." Optimus and Magnus both held looks of confusion when the CMO confessed his knowledge, or lack there of, of why Optimus had the seizure. "I have run multiple scans on every inch of your chassis, but I cannot seem to find any reason for you to have such a severe seizure. One of my peers suggested something, and I decided to ask you a couple questions to confirm or deny that idea."

"What kind of questions?" Magnus asked. He had scooted his chair closer to Optimus, and was now gripping his sparkmate's servo again, running his thumb digit along the joints.

"Medical ones."

Magnus was about to make a retort for the medic's crude manor, but Optimus gave him a look that clearly told him to remain silent, squeezing the his servo tighter than was really necessary. Slumping back in his chair, massaging his abused servo, Ultra Magnus remained silent.

"I'll answer all the questions to the best of my ability."

"Good." Ratchet grabbed a data pad from his subspace and turned in on. He began scrolling through the list of questions he'd have to ask Optimus, scribbling some out with a stylus. "Just answer yes or no for these, unless I ask you to elaborate."

"Alright." Optimus shifted on the berth, pushing himself up more so that he was sitting as straight as possible.

"Are you still having cramps in your legs?"

Optimus frowned at the memory of the morning before this incident. "Yes."

"Any other part of your chassis?"

"No."

Ratchet jotted something down on the data pad. "Alright, have you been feeling any numbing in the digits?"

Optimus was silent for a moment before nodding. "Yes."

"How often?"

"Mostly when I've been still for a long time, like in the morning."

Ratchet wrote that down. "Do you feel like you're stumbling more often than you used to?"

"I suppose," Optimus replied, trying to recall every time he had ever stumbled in the past vorn. The number was astonishing.

"Okay, does it hurt to get up in the morning?"

"Sometimes."

"Please explain."

Optimus sighed "Well, my joints feel stiff when I first wake up, I suppose," Optimus said, biting his bottom lip-plate. He always did that when he was thinking. "I usually just walk around my quarters to relieve the tension."

"Every morning?"

"No."

"Have you been experiencing frequent, and severe, processor aches in the past three orns?" Ratchet questioned, as his nervousness began to skyrocket. This was the most important question of all. It was the one that would determine if they get an energon sample and _really_ test Optimus's systems.

"Yes," Optimus answered, and Ratchet's spark dropped.


	4. Bad Dreams

**Chapter 4: Bad Dreams**

Ultra Magnus was sure he had never been more panicky in his life then when Ratchet stood up, without saying a word, and walked out of the room. The medic didn't give a reason as to why, but right after Optimus answered the question about memory loss (something Magnus would be needing to talk to him about later) he just subspaces his data pad and left. Now, with an awkward silence slowly suffocating the occupants of the medical room, Optimus spoke the thought that had been running rampant through his processor.

"Why is the bond closed?"

"Medics told me to," was Magnus's short answer. He was deep in the recesses of his own processor and it was going to take a lot more than a simple question to drag him out of there.

"Why?" Optimus asked.

"I don't know," Magnus admitted, turning his optics towards his mate and running the back of his servo across the side of Optimus's helm, trying to comfort him.

Optimus leaned into Magnus's warm touch, savoring the intimate moment between them. "Are we allowed to open it?"

"They said we could once you were in a stable condition."

Right after he spoke, Magnus felt light tugging on the bond. It was Optimus's way of asking Magnus to open up for him—like knocking on a metaphorical door. Never one to deny his mate anything, Magnus let the wall he had put up between them crumble, the sparkbond in its usual state of being completely open. Both Magnus and the Prime could feel the fear and worry on each other's minds through the bond, though neither voiced it. They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, simply enjoying the other's presence, digits laced together.

As the klicks ticked by, Optimus could tell that Magnus was beginning to grow more and more tired. His sparkmate looked truly exhausted, shutters heavy and half-lidded as he fought the recharge cycle he desperately needed. "When was the last time you recharged, love?" he asked, smirking when Ultra Magnus frowned at him.

"Optimus, I'm fine. You're the patient here, not me," Magnus defended. He knew very well that he was in need of recharge—and some energon wouldn't hurt. But Magnus refused to rest and risk not being there for Optimus if something happens again. He wasn't _really_ there when Optimus had the seizure. He was staying awake.

"That doesn't mean you suddenly lack the need for recharge," Optimus countered, rubbing small circles along the back of Magnus's servo. "A few breems won't offline you, and beside," His speech was interrupted by a long yawn, "I'm thinking of falling into recharge myself."

Magnus wanted to argue but knew he shouldn't. Not when his mate was right.

Smiling when Magnus didn't argue, Optimus traced a curving line with his pointer digit up his mate's arm, along the Autobot symbol on his shoulder-strut, across his blue and silver chestplates, up his sensitive neck cables…and flicked him on the noseplate. Magnus reared his helm backwards, his internal sensors telling him to get away from the source of discomfort. Light laughter filled the room. A deep baritone, that Magnus could have recognized a mile away.

He glared playfully at the laughing mech in front of him, lowering his helm and he shook it side to side. A low, chuckled, "Sparkling," exited his mouthplate moments after.

"I believe that would make you a pedophile."

Magnus looked up to see Optimus grinning at him—wide, lopsided, perfect. He suddenly yawned, reminding himself that he was in need of recharge. When he looked at Optimus, though, the mech looked perfectly capable of staying awake. As if the exhaustion of the past jour had no affect on him. "I thought you said you were tired?" he asked and laughed when Optimus simply shrugged his shoulder-struts, mindful of the wires still connected to him.

"I am." Of course, he just had to yawn at that very moment, proving his point. Without warning, his optic shutters began growing heavy, and his systems began to wind down into a recharge cycle he didn't truly want to go into. He wanted to make sure Magnus fell into recharge before he did.

"Then recharge."

"As," he yawned again, "long as you do."

"Gladly," Magnus said with another yawn. He leaned forward, kissing Optimus, then sat back in his seat and attempted to find a decent position to recharge in. After a klick of shifting around, he was in the best position he was going to find in the incredibly uncomfortable chair. He closed his shutters and began to fall into a recharge cycle, when his arm was slapped lightly. He opened his optics to see Optimus glaring at him. "What? I'm doing what you told me to."

"You're not recharging in that chair, Magnus, it'll hurt your backstruts."

"Where do _expect_ me to recharge then?" Ultra Magnus snapped, his voice portraying how much recharge he needed. A barely there amount of fear entered the bond, and Magnus mentally slapped himself for being so harsh to his mate. "Optimus, I'm sorry. Where were you thinking I could recharge?" he asked, his tone much softer.

"I thought you could recharge with me…on the berth."

"Good idea." Magnus grabbed the remote that controlled the medical berth, and lowered it. After Optimus had shifted over, so that there was enough room for both of them to lie down—as long as they both rested on their sides, he climbed onto the berth. They were both careful to make sure none of the medical wires were jostled loose— they really didn't want to rush medics in here because they accidentally unplugged something. Magnus used one as a pillow, curling the rest around Prime's helm and used the other to wrap around his mate's slimmer waist.

"Recharge well, love," Optimus murmured, nuzzling into Magnus's warm chestplates.

"Same to..." Magnus began, but couldn't finish the sentence before he fell into a deep recharge cycle.

* * *

_I see Optimus's face, and though it hasn't physically changed, he's so incredibly different. He looks at me with somehow happy, but at the same time sad optics. We're at home, laying on our shared berth. Our hands are tangled together in a mess between our bodies. I just stare at him for awhile, enjoying the beautiful orbs of electric blue that are his optics. The crimson and ultramarine on his armor and the blue of his optics suit him so well. The colors are strong, and yet loving, and very handsome on a mech his size. Not that I wouldn't love him if his appearance was changed._

_Our bond is open and I'm glad, though I can't help but feel that he's trying to stop from getting something across. I know he is trying to keep something from me._

_"Love, are you okay?" I ask, sincerely worried._

_"Fine," He replies, almost coldly, though with a warm smile gracing his face plates. _

_We continue laying there in silence, while I absentmindedly start stroking the back of his hand with my opposable digit. We enjoy a few klicks of silence, only to be interrupted by Optimus' vents heaving, the equivalent to a organic's gasp. I feel it immediately, the pain striking through the bond. His optic shutters and lip plates are now slammed shut in pain, I can feel it too. I call out to him, and after a half a klick of calling with only a shake of the helm, I comm Ratchet. He's stuck wherever it is that he is, in a jam, of sorts, and tells me he'll come as fast as he can. I only hope that it is in time. _

_"Optimus, Ratchet is on his way. He'll be here soon, okay? Hang on, love," I speak loud enough that I know for sure he can hear me. He shakes his helm, signaling that he got the message. We lay in silence for half a breem before the pain slowly starts to subside, still no sign of Ratchet. Even as the pain is retreating, he is laying on the berth, hands tucked neatly into mine, optics shut, lip plates opening every once in awhile to show me that he's still alive. When he finally opens his optics, they are dull and dark, and I know that can only mean one thing. If Ratchet doesn't get here soon, there might not be a patient to save. _

_"I love you, never forget that," I say, barely above a whisper. "Please don't leave me here alone." _

_"I love you… And I'll do my best…" he whispers. He's weak, almost sounding weaker than before. We take in what could be our last good look at each other. I stroke my name on his audio receptor, forever there, showing he is mine. I can feel him looking at the symbols that are engraved on me, stating that I am his. _

_We stare into each others' optics with a want that only another ten billion vorns with each other could satisfy. I see his optics going dim, ever so slowly, though not slowly enough. _

_"I... Love... You..." The words are separated by him gathering his strength, and I feel coolant well behind my optics. _

_"I love you too. Ratchet will be here soon. Hold on." I can tell he's trying. I know that Ratchet is on his way and will be here soon, but with as fast as he's deteriorating, I know that it won't likely be in time. _

_His optics darken ever so slightly more, and it makes the puddle at the back of my optics into a lake and I'm struggling to keep myself together. His next words nearly break me. "Stay sentient, Ultra Magnus," he says, his baritone voice quiet and soft. His optics are darker than the paint on his helm, and I know that it's almost time. _

_"You as well, ol' friend." I place a soft kiss on his forehelm, just above his optic ridges. "Optimus, stay with me." His optics go out. "OPTIMUS! PLEASE!" His finger lightly twitches against mine, and then all is still. The beautiful colors of his bright paint are gone, replaced by the dull grey of death. "OPTIMUS!" _

_I hear myself shouting obscenities at Primus, then someone is shaking my shoulder. _

"Ultra Magnus, wake up! Magnus!"

* * *

Magnus's optics shot open, his breathing labored and anxious. Because of the squished position the two of them were in on the berth, his sudden jolt of panic caused Magnus to fall off almost immediately. His shout of surprise seemed to wake Optimus's up, as he saw his sparkmate carefully leaned over the berth to look at him. The bond was filled with tired confusion.

"Magnus, what the frag just happened?" Looking up, Magnus saw Ratchet standing over him, servos on his hips. And he didn't look too happy. "Well?"

"Bad flux, nothing important." Magnus stood up, and pulled the chair closer so he could sit down. He looked over at Optimus, who gave him a look of confusion. Magnus sending a hefty dose of reassurance and love over the bond seemed to calm him down. For now. "Now, what do you need, Ratchet?"

Ratchet said four words, four words that could possibly decide if the path ahead of them will be smooth or rough.

"I have a diagnosis."

**Big, huge, tremendous thanks to KristenGall1998 for helping me work through this chapter and even writing the dream cycle.**


	5. Undesired Answers

**Chapter 5: Undesired Answers**

The room was filled with complete silence for a good ten klicks, no one really knowing what to say. Including Ratchet. Until Optimus decided to speak, of course. "What kind of diagnosis?" his voice was calm, barely above a whisper. Reaching for Magnus through the sparkbond, he could feel his mate's fear of what Ratchet may or may not say. And he was sure Magnus could feel how scared he was.

Ratchet sighed, grabbing an extra chair and sitting down. Again, just like yesterjour, he was at an angle so he could look at both mech's faceplates, though his optics never actually met the others. He silently grabbed the remote to Optimus's medberth and, without permission. raised it so Optimus could sit up. He was going to want to be at an angle for this one.

When he spoke, his voice sounded pained; not physical, of course. No, it was emotional, spark wrenching agony. "Not...a good one."

Both mechs stared at Ratchet for a full klick before reacting. Magnus was horrified. His jaw hung open, optics blinking rapidly as his processor tried to make sense of what the medic had said. Optimus, as always, was calm, his faceplate barely showing that he was listening. He truly didn't seemed phased by the fact that this news was bad, possibly deadly.

"Optimus, after examining the multiple scans and energon sample my assistant took after your seizure, we've concluded that…" he trailed off, not wanting to finish his sentence. The words that he knew he had to say kept getting caught in his throat, gagging him. How was he supposed to tell them? How was he supposed to tell the mech, whom he had practically raised from the jour Ironhide had found him out on the streets, that he was…

"You've concluded what? What, Ratchet?" Magnus questioned panicky, starting to stand up until he felt Optimus's gentle servo on his shoulder-strut, easing him down. Warmth filled his chest, surrounding his spark chamber, as Optimus sent him love and reassurance.

"Ratchet, please continue," Optimus instructed, grabbing his mate's servo again and giving it a tight squeeze.

"Optimus, you have a rare disease called Chronic Neural Misfiring." Ratchet was usually so graceful when he spoke, especially when explaining things to patients, but now his words spilled from his vocalizer in an unprofessional manor. They tasted bitter and hot on his glossa, burning his flavor sensors.

"…Is it treatable…?" Optimus asked, bitting his lower lip plate.

"Yes, although it isn't curable. But, with medications and regular check-ups, you can live a long, happy life."

Optimus nodded his understanding. He looked over at Magnus, who was just staring at the medic, still in shock. ~It will be alright, love. Ratchet knows what he's doing~ he murmured over the sparkbond, attempting to calm Magnus down.

Magnus didn't respond. Instead, he asked the medic, "how bad of a disease are we dealing with?"

"It is a neural abnormality that targets Optimus's processor." When he saw how terrified Magnus (and Optimus, to a lesser extent) looked, he continued to explain. "It is not as bad as it sounds, I promise."

"How can something that infects his processor not be bad?!" Magnus growled, trying to stand up again. Optimus grabbed his shoulder-strut and pushing him back down into his chair. He looked over at his mate, frowning. They seemed to have a silent conversation for a klick, before Magnus turned back to the medic. "I'm sorry for my outburst."

"It's fine, I understand that you're just scared." Ratchet would have usually responded to Ultra Magnus's rude manor with a sarcastic retort, but not now. Not when the mech was so emotionally unstable. "This disease is essentially a virus that simply disrupts the structure of your processor. It cannot, by itself, kill you."

"By itself?"

"Chronic Neural Misfiring, or CNM, targets certain parts of your processor but does not spread throughout, though there are some rare cases with full degeneration. And, without treatment, it can leave someone with extreme processor damage. But the medications fight it's progression, even if all the symptoms cannot be stopped."

"Ratchet, you said it targets certain areas…" Optimus murmured, "Where is it targeting me?"

"From all the information we have gathered, and the symptoms you seem to be experiencing, it's safe to assume that the disease is attacking you motor-relays and chassis sensors."

"But…I've been having small gaps in my memory… I'm assuming that isn't stored in the same area as my ability to walk," Optimus voice his thoughts, though it sounded more like a bitter question.

"For reasons unknown to the medics studying this disease, memory loss is almost always one of the first symptoms to appear. There's medications you can take to keep it under control."

"Alright," Optimus sighed, staring at the medic. One of his closest friends. The one whom he had been practically raised by. The one telling him he had an incurable disease. "What type of symptoms am I going to experience?"

"It's almost impossible to definitively say, since no case of CNM is the same, but I do know that you will most likely suffer from Seizures and muscle-cable tension. There is also a possibility that you will...loose your ability to walk."

Optimus's and Magnus's optics widened with fear tearing at both sparks.

Ratchet leaned forward in his chair, placing both servos on his leader's shoulder-struts, looking him in the optics. "Don't worry so much, Prime. I know many mechs and femmes who are experts in this field and I can guarantee any one of them will gladly help you through this."

"You're…not going to be my medic?" Optimus asked, his faceplate betraying how surprised he was.

"I don't know CNM well enough to be a good choice. It would be much better for you to see a specialist."

"Ok," Optimus nodded, agreeing. He closed his optics, practically biting through his lower lip-plate.

Ratchet sighed. "Optimus, why don't you and Magnus head home and rest. I'll talk with some of my colleges to see if I can get you an appointment with someone as soon as possible," he said, standing so he could help Optimus up if he needed it. Optimus nodded and slowly swung his legs off of the medical berth, servos gripping the end of the berth. "Ok, take this slowly, Optimus. You don't know how well your legs will hold you up."

Optimus didn't say anything, instead deciding to try and stand. Too quickly. Both legs buckled underneath him, and if Magnus hadn't been standing right next to him, he would have ended up on his faceplate. Magnus wrapped his arms around Optimus's slimmer waist, supporting almost all of his mate's weight.

"I'm going to go get a hoverchair, wait here," Ratchet mutter irritably, about to leave when Optimus grabbed his armor.

"No need, I just need to wait for my legs to tighten up. I can walk." Optimus sounded incredibly determined, but Ratchet didn't want to risk him tiring himself out and collapsing. One, that would scare the frag out of anyone near him; and two, it would just make it harder for his systems to fight of the disease.

"Prime, don't be stubborn."

"No hoverchair."

"Fine, stay here for a klick. I'll be back soon." Before Optimus could argue, the medic was gone.

"You should probably sit, love," Magnus urged, noticing how wobbly Optimus's legs were starting to look. Optimus decided to agree with his mate for once and sat back on the berth, peds still flat on the floor.

Ratchet retired five klicks later, with something in his servos. Optimus sighed, shaking his helm. "There's no need for that either, Ratchet."

"Shut up, Prime. I could have gotten some burly security guards to strap you down to a hoverchair. Be happy that I couldn't find any," the medic retorted, handing Optimus the long, black, metal forearm crutch.

"What do you think the public will think when they see me with this?"

"A transport is coming for you soon."

"But—"

"Optimus, calm down. There's no need to react this way," Magnus murmured into his sparkmate's audio, running his servo along Prime's backstruts.

Prime glared at both mechs, but didn't say anything else. He looked at the crutch in his servos. It reached to about mid-abdomin, with a curved handle so that he could slip his arm in for extra support. He stood again on shaking legs, Magnus ready to catch him if need be. Slipping the crutch on his arm went easily, and Optimus took a tentative step forward, putting most of his weight on the crutch.

After he took a few steps without falling, he looked over at Magnus. "Let's get back to the apartment."

xXxXx

Slice had been sitting at his desk, reading over a fashion tabloid with some _really_ sexy paint jobs when the door opened. He looked up, mouth dropping to the floor when he saw Optimus Prime walk—more like limp- in, with Ultra Magnus at his heals. "Optimus, what happened?!"

"You didn't hear about it on the holo-net? I'm surprised," Magnus muttered, optics trained onto Optimus's chassis. His sparkmate was getting weaker as the klicks dragged by. They were going to have to get to the apartment soon, or Optimus may or may not fall into emergency recharge.

"Well, I heard about that seizure yesterjour, but why do you have a crutch?" Slice asked, as Optimus waked further into the building. He grabbed the data pad before the Prime could see it and hid it underneath his desk. Before he realized that Prime was heading towards the lifts.

"It's…a long story, Slice, and I am incredibly tired. Maybe another time?"

"Oh, ok! Don't worry about it!" Slice called as Optimus and Ultra Magnus entered the only lift that would bring them to their quarters. Once they were gone, he went back to his data pad.

Inside the lift, Optimus was leaning heavily on Magnus. He was exhausted, and just wanted to curl into a ball and recharge for a few vorns. His mate had his arms wrapped around his waist, chin rest on the top of Prime's helm. He looked down at his mate, whom had his optics shuttered as he fought recharge, and barely suppressed a growl from leaving his vocals. Optimus didn't deserve this! He had never done anything wrong; he had, in fact, done the exact opposite. He was kind, funny, courages, had the most generous spark of any mech or femme Magnus had ever met, and loved unconditionally. That bastard Megatron deserved this! He deserved such a horrible sickness that left him weak and tired. Not Optimus! Not the mech who had saved so many lives in the vorns that he had been alive.

The lift opened. As Magnus silently cursed Primus for doing this to his mate, Optimus stood tall again and began limping out of the lift, towards their home. He quickly scanned his optics to allow himself entrance and waited for Magnus by the open doorway. His mate quickly caught up and they both walked into their large apartment.

"It's the middle of the jour, and I feel like I am going to fall into stasis," Optimus grumbled lightly, limping into their berthroom. He had gotten really good at using the forearm crutch while he paced back and forth in the transport on the way here. Still didn't look happy to use it though.

Magnus entered their berthroom to find Optimus faceplate against a cool gel pillow, spread-eagle on their berth, the crutch discarded on the floor. Smirking at how attractive his mate looked, Magnus closed the door. Optimus needed his recharge.


	6. Night After

**Chapter 6: Night After**

Optimus woke in the middle of the recharge-cycle. A large stream of light flowed through the clear doors of their small balcony, shinning all the colors of Iacon. The district that never recharged.

He rolled onto his side, away from the balcony, facing his sparkmate. Magnus was lying on his backstruts, one arm across his own chassis, the other hanging off the end of the berth. A small smile manifested onto Prime's faceplate as he watched his handsome mech recharge. Ultra Magnus had always been gorgeous in Optimus's optics. His faceplate was almost flawless, except for the small scar running down his cheek and across his jaw. So faded that Optimus didn't even noticed it until their first kiss. When he was so close that their fields mingled with one another.

Some may call Magnus's paint choice dull, but Optimus thought that it fit his sparkmate perfectly. Dark, _dark_ blue with red undertones on his chestplates and silver highlights on his arms, helm and legs. The silver shone in the light and Optimus had even learned that anywhere red on his sparkmate was incredibly sensitive. Like a target zone.

Optimus began to grow restless, wanting—no, needing- to move around a bit before he tried to recharge again. He gave his sparkmate a quick kiss on the cheekplate, spark filled with a warm sense of protectiveness when Magnus smiled in his recharge. As he swung his legs to the side of the berth, a low sounding keen slipped from his vocalizer—when had getting out of berth become so painstakingly awful?

Deciding against grabbing the forearm crutch that happened to be lying at least three inches from his ped, Optimus stood. He half walked, half shuffled his way to the balcony three or so yards away. The energy-glass doors slid open for him, and he walked out onto the small space. Where he and Ultra Magnus had spent many night-cycles simply watching the people of Cybertron living their lives. If they were lucky, sometimes on clear nights they could even see stars and constellations in the sky.

Optimus leaned against the railing of the balcony and stared up into the sky. Nope, not even a glimmer. The lights of Iacon, the first and only district Optimus had ever lived a good chunk of his life in, was too bright for even a single star to get through. When Optimus had been younger, all the light had kept him awake at the recharge-cycle, and even well into his adult-hood the sheer luminosity of Iacon still irritated him so much that he had grown used to burrowing into the berth (or his mate's frame) to get away from it.

Right now, all the lights did was remind him that he was still alive.

As he let his optics wander around the beautiful city, his mind continued to wander to the future. What was it going to be like now? Would he end as a cripple that couldn't do anything without assistance? Could he and Magnus still have the family they had been putting off for much too long? Or was that now just a distant dream, too far away to ever reach? For now, all he could do is pray.

A long sigh escaped him. Even if they cannot have their own little ones, adoption is always an option, right? It's not as if they couldn't go to a local Youth Center—there were always sparklings and younglings in need of good homes. Yes, that sounds like a good idea; he would need to talk to Magnus about that at some point. No matter if they can or cannot have their own sparklings, it would be amazing to welcome a little mech or femme into their chaotic life.

Optimus's shivered as a cool breeze ran through his circuits, chilling his innermost workings. Cybertron was far away from its sun, meaning that it had cool jours and freezing recharge-cycles. Most mechs and femmes with jobs that consisted of them being outside, especially during the recharge-cycle, carried compact heaters that they placed safely inside their chestplates, directly under the spark chamber. Optimus had used one once or twice and his opinion on them was that they worked incredibly to keep him warm, but were terribly uncomfortable. Especially for longer periods of time.

The wind seemed to be picking up, making Optimus shiver—when had he become so intolerant to the cold? He could usually stand outside for breams at recharge-cycle if he wanted to. And now, from how quickly his temperature was dropping, he'd have to go in soon or risk getting a virus. How bad would a simple virus be for him now? Normal, worse, or deadly?

As he continued wandering his own mind, two large, _warm_ arms wrapped themselves around Optimus's shivering frame. "What are you doing up so late, love? And being outside in such freezing temperatures? You'll catch a virus with how violently you're shivering."

"I couldn't recharge," Optimus murmured, leaning his helm back into Ultra Magnus's, engine purring softly. Magnus was taller than Optimus, which was saying something. When they both stood straight, Optimus barely reached Magnus's forehelm. "What brought you out of recharge?"

"You were emanating upset feelings over the bond. Are you okay?"

"I was…? I'm sorry." Optimus didn't even realize that he was upset, he definitely had no idea that he had been subconsciously radiating over to Ultra Magnus.

"Hush, it's fine," Magus whispered in his mate's audio, kissing up and down Optimus's neck. The warm glossa and lip-plates felt so absolutely fantastic on his cool plating, Optimus was sure he was going to melt. "I'm happy that I woke up in time to drag your beautiful aft back to berth before you freeze to death."

"Mmmmm," Optimus sighed, as experienced servos teased wires in his hip and backstruts.

"Come on, love, you need recharge. We have an appointment with the specialist in the morning." Magnus kissed Optimus's neck again, and slowly led his shivering sparkmate back inside, the doors slowly closing behind them both. Optimus noticed that Magnus seemed to be taking it slow, for him he assumed. He hated to admit it, but he was glad that they weren't walking too fast. He simply did not have the energy.

They lied down on the berth, and Optimus immediately burrowed his helm into his mate's much warmer frame. Magnus gladly wrapped his arms around him, glad to be there for his sparkmate in even the smallest ways.

It felt amazing to be practically encompassed in the heat radiating off of Ultra Magnus, their fields mixing and mingling. Optimus never wanted it to end.

Of course, good things never last long for him.


	7. Starting Treatment

**Chapter 7: Starting Treatment**

They had been sitting in the small office for nearly half a breem, and Optimus couldn't help but fiddle with the forearm crutch Magnus forced him to bring. There was a small dial on the side to change the length and a smaller one directly underneath that that controlled the amount of pressure it could hold. Ratchet had originally set it to 4.8768 meters with its ability to hold at least two of Optimus. Now, it was about 2.4567 meters and would probably collapse under a mini bot's weight.

"Optimus, stop it!" Magnus barked in an aggravated whisper, grabbing the crutch. They had had to wake up early for this fragging meeting and were now being forced to wait for this apparent genius medical professional. Al he wanted was to get Optimus's treatment started, and go home. Magnus could tell that his mate wanted the same thing—beginning treatment. He looked like he was starting to grow aggravated every time he held an energon cube and went to drink it, only for the glass to slip from his digits and shatter on the floor.

Magnus was sure that he was never going to get the stains of two fragmented cubes out of the floor.

The unmistakable sound of metal sliding back made both mechs look towards the door.

A tall mech walked in, lanky chassis with stick-thin arms and legs, carrying a couple of data pads. His paint-job was a very vibrant, but still somehow dark, purple with pink and light blue highlights on his legs, hips, peds and helm. The closer he got to the desk in the center of the room, the more Optimus and Magnus could smell the rich scents wafting off his frame. Rust sticks, sweetened energon, and when he sat down at the desk, they could easily smell honey-cream chassis-solvent.

"Hello, Lord Prime and Ultra Magnus, I'm Anti Body." He leaned over the desk to shake both their servos, a large smile on his faceplate the whole time.

"Please, don't call me Lord Prime," Optimus requested, sliding his facemask back and smiling at the medic. "Optimus is fine."

"Of course…Optimus," Anti Body said, his smile never faltering. He sat back in his chair, the black metal creaking backwards slightly from his weight and grabbed one of the data pads he had arrived with. "Well, I've reviewed your chart, spent some time thinking up the best plan of action for your treatment and I believe I have a method that will be near-perfect for your case."

"Okay," Optimus murmured, nodding his helm to show he was listening and grabbed Magnus's servo, crushing it. His mate didn't mind in the slightest.

"Now, Optimus, the symptoms you seem to be showing are seizures, muscle cable cramps, numbness, an unstable gate, stiffness, and gaps in your memory core. Tell me if I missed anything."

Optimus tried to rack his processor for anymore helpful information, and only came up with something small. "I may or may not be getting…colder much easier than normal…" he trailed off, the sentence sounding a lot better in his helm.

"That is actually a very common symptom of Chronic Neural Misfiring," Anti Body explained. "Your systems cannot handle the stress being put on you and, especially during the recharge-cycle, your core temp drops considerably so the energy can be used for more important things."

Magnus and Optimus exchanged slight glances, not a word passed between them. If it was even possible, they tightened their grip on one another.

"I do recommend that you get a thermal blanket to use for recharge. If your temperature drops too much, you can go into shock and that is dangerous for someone with CNM."

"Alight, we can do that. Right?" Optimus said with the slightest of nervous quivers in his voice, looking at Magnus who was nodding in agreement.

~We'll go to a shop on our way home~ he assured over the bond.

"Good idea, now how about we talk medications?" Anti Body smiled again, grabbing a different data pad. A klick went by in silence as he read it over—he continued speaking without once looking up. "There are a few meds I'll need you to take jourly and a few things that are needed every other deca-cycle or so. There are too many complicated names neither of you will remember perfectly so I've already ordered everything for you. You are going to be taking three sets of capsules daily: some anti-seizure medication, a capsule that prevents the disease from spreading throughout your processor, and a simple sensory dampener."

Anti Body paused for a nano-klick, and then spoke again.

Now, I should warn you, the sensory dampener might make you feel a little weird until your systems get used to them. Just don't be alarmed if you feel any dizziness, change in mood or behavior, or nausea."

"Alright," Optimus's voice seemed to be losing the strength he is known for the longer they talked about this.

Anti Body seemed to notice this, for he finally looked up from his data pad. Starring directly into Prime's electric blue optics, he gave him a look of complete seriousness. "Optimus, you are going to be okay. I promise. Yes, there will be days where you cannot move for it hurts too much. Yes, you may end up in a hoverchair. No, you won't be as limber as you used to be. But just remember this: Ultra Magnus and I will be there with you every step of the way. He'll pick you up when you trip over nothing, and I'll make sure you take the correct medications to live a long, happy life. You aren't alone in this. You never will be. I won't allow it."

A small smile crept up onto Optimus's silver faceplate.

"There we go!" Anti Body clapped his servos together in joy. "Now, I think we're about done here, unless there's something you are wondering?"

"Actually, there is," Optimus murmured, taking a slow intake to try and cool his stressed out systems. "I was wondering…if…um…will Magnus and I be able to have, you know, sparklings?" Optimus Prime, the mech who always had the right words, just sounded like the most uneducated 'bot alive.

Anti Body stared at him for a moment, then began laughing. "Oh, you sound so nervous about this one, simple thing! Sorry! Sorry!" Anti Body took a moment to gather himself, then continued. "All I need to know is which one of you has the carrier code, and then I can figure out whether or not sparklings is a possibility."

"Ratchet told me when I was a youngling that I was a carrier," Optimus stated calmly, refusing to let himself get excited.

"Is it safe to assume that Ultra Magnus, you're a sire?"

"I believe so," Magnus nodded, running his thumb digit along the back of Prime's servo. The idea that they may not be able to have sparklings hadn't even occurred to him and now that Optimus had brought it up…he didn't know all that well what he was thinking about it.

"Ok, so that does make it a_ bit _complicated, but don't worry! If you ever think about having sparklings, just come see either CMO Ratchet or myself. Either one of us can help you figure out a plan to make sure that you produce healthy little ones," Anti Body explained. "Sadly, I don't really know much about having sparklings with CNM since most mechs don't really want little ones running under-ped after a few vorns with the disease."

That confused the Prime, but he dismissed it. Nothing could make him unwilling to procreate. He sighed, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He was just glad to finally get that worry out of his processor.

"Thank you," he murmured, "I…thank you."


	8. Almost Normal

**Chapter 8: Almost Normal**

_It had to have been one of the worst solar storms of the vorn. Large volts of electricity scattered the skies of Cybertron and a loud crack of thunder that shook the ground almost knocked the youngling off his peds as he ran home. He was already soaking from the acidic rain burning off his already chipping paint, thankfully it wasn't too acidic or Magnus would be curled in a ball crying. But he continued to run through the rain, his school-pack bouncing slightly with each hastened step. He just wanted to get home to his carrier and little sister and watch the holo-net and do his homework and just not be wet._

_"No! That's mine! Give it!"_

_Magnus stopped running when his audio receptors picked up yelling. It was hard to hear due to the rain, but he could tell it was probably mechs around the same age as him; Magnus is fourteen thousand vorns old; and one was being attacked. Slowly walking towards the backstreet, where he was almost certain the voices were coming from, Magnus looked into the narrow space where most 'bots put their trash._

_"Stop it!"_

_"Make me, ya little runt!"_

_A mech, probably a little older than Magnus, was picking on a much smaller 'bot who looked to be barely above the age of adolescence. He was holding up a data pad, out of the younger mech's reach, laughing as he attempted to get it. An expensive-looking school-pack was lying on the wet ground, torn open with data pads spilling out of it. As the younger mech jumped to get the data pad, the older one pushed him mid-jump, sending him into the piles of scrap metal and old energon cubes._

_Magnus's fury was rising as he saw the small mech shift around in the pile, clearly in pain. He couldn't just stand and here and watch! He had to help!_

_Without thinking straight, Magnus charged towards the older mech, screaming, "Leave him alone!" Now, Magnus was big for his age, and strong too, so when he charged helm-on at the mech, he took him out. The mech landed on the ground, the data pad he had in his servos shattering._

_Magnus vented deep intakes of air as he watched the mech stand up, raining poring down his silver faceplate. If looks could kill, Magnus would be in a pool of his own energon right now. "Who do you think you are? Attacking me like that?"_

_Remembering what his Defenses Teacher had told him about bullies, Magnus refused to back down, asserting himself by standing up straight and speaking clear. "What do you think? Get out of here before I call the enforcers!"_

_The older mech glared at Magnus but didn't attack him. "Whatever," he snorted, mumbling words Magnus was sure he would never repeat in his lifetime. He was wrong, but that was besides the point. The mech pushed Magnus out of the way, and transformed into a sleek racer custom build, designed for...well, racing._

_Once he was sure the racer was gone, Ultra Magnus turned around to see the smaller mechling fumbling with his shattered and non-shattered data pads. He was having a difficult time fitting them all inside the tore bag. "Are you alight?"_

_"Uh, yeah. I've had worse." He looked up at Magnus and smiled. "Thanks…I'm Optimus, by the way. And that racer's name is Fanner, he's Senator Akim Boyora's son," Optimus stumbled through the Senator's name, but Magnus got the gist of it._

_"Why was he attacking you?" Magnus asked, kneeling down to help Optimus with his data pads. Primus, he had a lot. At least twenty in this small bag. and even more on the ground._

_"Because I'm Sentinel Prime's son…" Optimus muttered, wincing when he cut his digits on a piece of the broken data pad glass. Energon dripped from the cut, and Optimus immediately stuck the digit into his mouthplate to slow the leakage. "Well, adopted son," he corrected through a mouthful of leaking digits._

_"Ah," Magnus nodded, picking up the pack and all working data pads. "We should probably get you to a medic before you bleed too much. Besides," he looked up at the sky. "The storm is getting worse."_

**30,000 Vorns Later**

An orn had gone by since Optimus's diagnosis and life had continued as smoothly and normal as was physically possible. After about a deca-cycle of resting and getting used to the routine of taking medication, Optimus had a conference with his higher-ups, including the Council and the Senate, to explain the situation. He told them the truth about CNM, and what he would be expecting for the future. Everyone had been incredibly caring, and many offered to take some of Optimus's duties so that he could work less.

Yeah, it's not hard to guess how that went.

The public was not informed of Optimus's diagnosis, and everyone planned on keeping it that way for as long as possible.

Optimus woke up the same way he always did, early. Being the considerate mech that he was, he attempted to get out of the berth without waking his sparkmate. Magnus was more of a night-bot and didn't enjoy waking up when he didn't need to. Of course, now that simply moving his stiff joints and aching body was rather difficult, especially in the morning when he had been lying still for such a long time, he shifted the berth much more than he would have liked. Magnus shifted slightly before falling still again. For an astro-second, Optimus thought he was in the clear and that Magnus hadn't woken up.

"Optimus, what are you doing up so early?" Magnus questioned, rubbing the tiredness out of his optics and tearing Prime's theory to shreds."You don't need to go in for another two breems."

"I have rounds in a breem," Optimus whispered, leaning over his side of the berth to kiss his sparkmate. Magnus returned the kiss happily, sitting up to follow his mate out of the room. Optimus looked confused for a moment, tilting his helm to the side like a techno-puppy. "Magnus, you don't have to get up with me. I'm pretty sure I can handle the morning without you by my side."

"You woke me up, and sparkmate law dictates that I have to get up with you," Magnus stated in a monotone, standing up. He proceeded to fix the thermal blanket they had begun using every night. It itched in odd places and left Magnus feeling constricted and confined, but Optimus had begun shivering a lot during the night, even with the thermal. So Magnus usually crawled under there with him and wrapped his servos around the thinner mech, letting Prime soak in all his warmth. "You also need to make me a cube of mid-grade," he added, as he flattened the last crease in the thermal.

Optimus laughed, rolling his optics as he slowly left their berthroom. "Why? So you can simply mock me?" Optimus questioned, glaring at his mate, who was offering him his crutch. Even though Anti Body had suggested he start using it jourly, so to not stress his muscle-cables more than his job already did, Optimus still refused. He loathed the feeling of dependence on anything or anyone. Besides, seeing the looks others gave him, acting as if he were a broken toy that needed to be cared for and tip-toed around, hurt him even more than any disease ever could.

"I am not going to limit myself the wonderful powers of mid-grade simply because you cannot drink it anymore," Magnus commented amusingly, lightly swinging the crutch as he walked over to their sofa. After having had a bad reaction from it mixing with one of his medicines, resulting in Optimus falling into deep recharge in the middle of a meeting, Anti Body kindly suggested that he never drink mid-grade again. It seemed that, since his meds stalled the progression of the CNM, they also completely reversed the affects of mid-grade in a mechs systems. Which is what made Optimus recharge for about a jour and a half.

"You hate me, don't you?" Optimus questioned, looking over at his sparkmate with a remarkably believable pout, as well as mixing a hefty dose of amusement through the bond. He poured two cubes of energon—one mid-grade, the other simple, plain energon. Walking over to the couch, he gave Magnus the mid-grade, and sat down next him on the sofa. Optimus opened his cube, taking a small sip before snuggling into Magnus's warm chassis, feeling a large arm wrap around him to pull him in closer.

"You know, I could stay here forever. Simply sitting on this sofa, with you and a cube of mid-grade," Magnus thought aloud, kissing his mate's helm.

"I agree," Optimus whispered, "if only dreams came true sometimes."

"They do. Well, I know they did for me," Magnus commented, smiling at Optimus when the other mech raised an optic ridge at him. "I have you. Every dream I ever wished has come true."

"Cliché, but thank you," Optimus said, snuggling into Magnus further. For what seemed like eternity, but still not long enough, they stayed there. Both drinking their morning energon, neither speaking. Nothing was needed to fill the silence.

Of course, all good things have an ending.

"I'm going to hop in the wash racks, can you be amazing and set up my meds for me?" Optimus asked, splitting open the silence as he stood up, disposing of his and Magnus's empty cubes.

"You ask too much," Magnus said sarcastically, standing up and walking past his mate to go to their berthroom. That's where they kept the small cabinet with three bottles in it, all full enough for a orn. Magnus opened them all, and grabbed the necessary capsules for a jour—three in the morning, one before mid-jour, and another before recharge. The two that Optimus would take later were a pain killer and an anti-convulsive. He took the pain killer because by his mid meal, Optimus's morning dampener would wear off. The anti-convulsive was to make sure Optimus wouldn't have any seizers at night, and if he did they would be much less severe.

Magnus placed the two capsules for later in a small container, and held the rest in his servo. He left their berthroom, hearing running oil and solvent coming from the hallway. He sat down on the sofa again, and placed the capsules on the side table. Turning on the holo-net, Magnus flipping through channels for about ten klicks, unable to find something he found interesting. Only after Optimus had snuck up behind him and picked something for him, did the program finally settle.

Optimus had stopped it at Magnus's favorite show—Real Crimes Committed by Real Mechs. Even though he didn't watch much holo-net, this was an engaging show. It showed him, as he was an Enforcer for Iacon, some of the mechs he could possibly deal with while at work. Besides that, the show was entertaining and was one of the only programs that kept his interest for more than ten klicks.

Magnus grabbed the pills, and handed them to his sparkmate, his optics locked on the program in front of him. A mech had apparently robbed a clinic of all their medical grade energon and when the Enforcers found him, he was practically bathing in the liquid.

"Thank you," Optimus murmured, taking the capsules out of Magnus's servo. He popped them in his mouth quickly, dry-swallowing before the bitter taste could stick on his glossa. His internal chronometer told him that he only had fifteen klicks before his rounds in the command center began. "I have to go, or I'll be late."

Magnus turned around so hat he could kiss his sparkmate goodbye. "Don't forget your crutch this time," he reminded, holding the crutch out to his mate.

Optimus rolled his optics. "Thank you," he practically snarled, taking the crutch from his sparkmate. "I'll see you around 1700 breams right?" He asked.

"Unless I have to work late, yes," Magnus answered, watching his sparkmate leave their apartment. Prime was using the crutch in his left servo, the dominant one, putting a lot of his weight on it. No matter how much the mech acted like he didn't he need, they both knew that without the crutch, Optimus would be absolutely exhausted by mid-meal. Especially with rounds where all he was doing was walking.

"I love you."

"Love you too."

**If you liked the little glimpse into the past, I'm thinking of doing it more often. I would show the firsts in Optimus and Magnus's relationship, and some big moments for them. If you want me to do more, please tell me.**


	9. Seize Me

After six orns of recharging with a mech who frequently had seizures during the night cycle, Magnus had gotten exceptionally good at two things. Waking the moment he felt his bondmate begin to even hint at a seizure, and also being able to hold down a mech practically the same size as him with no difficulty. Add the fact that Optimus had no control over what his body did, and most would consider Magnus a saint for staying with the mech that kept him from recharge so often.

A clear example of this would be when Optimus headbutted Magnus and broke his noseplate. It had been almost as soon as the seizure started. Magnus went to secure Optimus's arms and as he leaned in to grab him, the other mech's helm jerked forward and bent his noseplate to the side.

That had probably been the worst seizure they had ever had to go through. Optimus had even bitten so hard on his own glossa that he drew energon, which then trickled down his almost completely closed intake, choking him.

By the end of it, they were both covered in energon, groaning in exhaustion and pain. Optimus looked like a sparkling fresh-off bottles that had dribbled the cube all over himself, and Magnus had twin streams coming from his noseplate.

Now, three deca-cycles later, Magnus was doing practically the same thing; minus the bodily harm. He had Optimus's convulsing chassis wrapped securely in his arms, pointing the mech's helm downwards as best he could. On average, Optimus's seizures were only about 30 nano-klicks long, but this one was still going strong a klick and a half later.

The most terrifying part of these seizures, besides the obvious, was that Optimus was generally conscious the whole time. He didn't really know what was happening, or where he was; he was just absolutely terrified. Especially because Magnus could not reach him when he was having a seizure. His optics were open wide, tears quite frequently spilling from them. Sometimes his optics were twitching along with the rest of his body, and that just made him look possessed and terrified.

Finally, Optimus's body seemed to calm down. First, his legs stopped flailing wildly. Next, his helm, and then the rest of him stopped. Magnus released his tight hold on his sparkmate, deciding to simply lean against the head of the berth, cradling Optimus in his arms.

Right after a bad seizure, Optimus was completely paralyzed for a good 10 klicks. It took about a breem or two for him to be able to fully move, and even then he was very tired and didn't really want to.

~How are you feeling?~ Magnus asked through the bond, running his digits along Prime's audio receptor.

~Exhausted,~ Optimus replied. ~I'm sorry I woke you.~

~Hush, it's alright~ Magnus whispered, lowering Optimus onto the berth on his backstruts. He lifted Optimus's helm to put a gel pillow underneath it, and then wrapped him in a thermal. ~Recharge, love. You need it.~

Optimus didn't reply. He had fallen into recharge as soon as Magnus had laid him down on the berth. Magnus smiled, kissed his sparkmate's helm, and fell back into recharge himself.

* * *

"Optimus Prime, sir!" Jolt exclaimed, waving to the transforming mech. Optimus gave Ratchet's assistant a short nod and a small smile, walking over to the miniature hospice. "So, we're just gonna run-I mean walk! Obviously, we won't run. You probably can't run very much anym-I don't mean that you're unable, I just-"

"Calm down, Jolt. It's alright," Optimus chuckled, placing a servo on the younger mech's shoulder as he walked passed him to enter the building. "Why don't we get inside? I'm a bit chilled." As if on cue, what felt like ice ran down Prime's backstruts, making him shiver.

"Oh, of course, sir!" Jolt rushed after the Prime through the doors. They walked passed the front desk, Jolt explaining what they were going to be doing. Optimus had been having increasingly violent seizures during the night cycle for the past deca-cycle, and Magnus was starting to get worried. Anti Body suggested that he get some energon drawn to see if something was wrong and work from there. Ratchet had offered to have his assistant do it since he was the only other mech that could be trusted to keep the secret of Optimus's condition.

As they continued to walk, Prime seemed to have tripped over a capsule bottle someone left behind, almost sending him to his faceplate. If it hadn't been for the crutch in his servo, and Jolt leaping in front of him, he would have.

"Sir, are you alright? Maybe you should sit down?" Jolt asked, looking nervously at the mech now leaning against the wall. Optimus was taking in deep, slow intakes as he calmed down his racing spark. He loathed how simply tripping caused such trauma in his body now, but sadly there was nothing he could do about it.

"No, but thank you for being considerate. It is best for me to keep moving unless I want my legs to cramp." Optimus pushed himself off the wall, and smiled at Jolt. "Shall we continue? I have a meeting in two breems."

They walked down a short hallway, and entered a room painted bright white with a long line of chairs, all of different sizes, lining the walls. Jolt led Optimus to a chair that would accommodate his larger frame; Optimus placed his crutch off to the side and sat down.

"I need you to remove the armor above your left arm, please," Jolt said as he prepared the needle. Optimus retracted his armor plating and placed the tough metal next to his chair. He stared at the needle in Jolt's servo, his spark rate slightly rising. "This should only take a few klicks. Try not to clench."

Jolt carefully sanitized the area around where he was going to draw energon, and slowly inserted the needle. Optimus, being very much a needle phobic, closed his optic shutters and bit down on his lower lip plate, focussing on anything other than where he was right at that moment.

~Are you alright?~ Magnus asked through their bond, having sensed Optimus's fear. He had wanted to go with his sparkmate, for moral support, but his captain refused to give him the jour off. He was only allowed a total of one deca-cycle off an orn, and he had quickly chewed through that. Optimus had told him that he would be fine, and not to make his captain any angrier, but he was quickly having second thoughts.

~There's a large needle in my arm,~ Optimus practically whimpered through the bond. ~No, I'm not alright.~

~Do want me to run down?~ Magnus was supposed to be filing reports, but he was currently leaning slightly forward in his chair, ready to spring out of it if need be. ~I'm sure Crossrazor will understand.~

~No. I'm starting to calm down while we talk.~ Optimus really was calmer as he talked to mate over the bond. Magnus's voice always had a soothing effect on his spark and mind.

~I'm sorry, love, there's a disturbance on 43rd. I have to go.~ Magnus sent a pulse of reassurance and love through the bond.

Optimus returned the love. ~I'll see you tonight, after my meeting.~

"Ok, sir, we're done," Jolt said, getting Optimus's attention. He removed the needle and threw it away in the trash bin off to the side.

"Thank you, Jolt," Optimus murmured, happy to have the needle where it should be-not inside him.

"Here, you should drink some energon." Optimus accepted the the cube handed to him, drinking up the sweet liquid. "Ok, so I'll bring this to the lab and either Ratchet or Anti Body will call you very soon. Probably tonight."

Optimus nodded, smiling at the much younger as they left the room. They walked down the hallway, Jolt standing slightly behind Prime, until Optimus left legged buckled under him, his whole chassis going numb.

Optimus hit the ground faster than he thought possible, arms so numb that he was unable to catch himself. His left shoulder hit the ground first, dislocating.

Thankfully, he was unable to feel it since he was too busy seizing on the floor of the miniature hospice.

* * *

"Streetwise, please put the blaster down," Magnus urged, holding his own blaster in front of his faceplate just in case. The mech had a mental breakdown when he heard that his sparkmate was infected with a simple (and curable) disease, and decided that it was his duty to save him from it by offlining the poor mech. "There is no need for violence."

"YOU DON'T FRAGGING UNDERSTAND!" Streetwise screamed, shaking as he went from pointing his blaster at his sparkmate to pointing it at Magnus and then back again. "I'M SAVING HIM! HE'S HURT AND I NEED TO SAVE HIM!"

"Alright, then we can take him to a place where he can get help," Magnus tried to reason with the deranged mech, not wanting to have to pull the trigger. But if it came to that...then he would to save the other mech.

"NO! YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM! ONLY I CAN! IT'S PRIMUS'S WISH!"

"Streetwise, why do you believe that Primus would want you to offline your sparkmate? Don't you think He would-" Magnus suddenly grabbed his chest with a hiss of pain and sorrow, as Optimus's pain and fear flooded the bond. He regretfully closed the bond, knowing that he needed to take care of this situation before he could find out what was wrong with his mate.

"You're hurt too," Streetwise whispered, staring at Magnus. "I have to save you."

"No, Streetwise, you need to put the blaster down," Magnus replied, making a lowering motion with his servos, still holding his blaster in front of himself.

"I WILL SAVE YOU!" Streetwise screamed as he aimed at Ultra Magnus. Magnus had just enough time to do nothing before a round went through his chestplates.

**A lot happened in this chapter. I hope you were able to follow. Next chapter will be up relatively soon.**


	10. Angel Tears

**Chapter 10: Angel Tears**

_"Sire, look what I made!"_

_A small, bumbling youngling ran through the large citadel in search of his adoptive sire. His blue peds seemed to hit every small bump in the ground, making him stumble and trip with every other step._

_The large group of adults in the courtyard all turned to watch the red and blue youngling run towards them, a small data pad in his servos. Most looked at the dirty, scuffed up youngling with disdain, not desiring to go anywhere near him._

_The tallest, and most important, mech of the group looked at the little one with...not disdain, but irritation and maybe even a little disappointment. He was forced to watch his son trip over his own peds as he interrupted the group's fine conversation to show something to them that was guaranteed to be uninteresting. _

_"Sentinel, you need to learn to control your brat," One of the council mechs sneered, crossing his arms. He was one of the very few Cybertronians_

_"Come on, Dextrex, he's just a youngling," another commented, smiling at little Optimus trying to get his sire's attention._

_"Sire! Sire! Sire! I wanna show you what I made at academy! My teacher said that I'm a little Ventaso!" Optimus cheered, talking about some painter from trillions of vorns ago. _

_"Optimus, please go. I will be home shortly, and you can show me then," Sentinel spoke in a monotone, refusing to give Optimus and optic contact._

_"But you're right here! And I made it for you!" Optimus urged, holding up a coloring pad with a very crude drawing of what one would assume was supposed to be Sentinel and Optimus, holding servos._

_"Very nice, now please go home," Sentinel continued to try to focus on anything other than the youngling at his peds._

_"You didn't even look at it!" Tears began to well in Optimus's wide blue optics. Pulling on Sentinel's leg armor, he continued to try to get the adult to pay him at least some attention. He didn't understand why his sire was so adamant about not looking at his drawing. He just wanted to make him proud..._

_"Optimus, go now!" Sentinel yelled, pushing the youngling off of him with a hard shove, his chassis not minimizing the strength used against the tiny youngling, and ended shoving his son almost fully across the court._

_Optimus hit the ground with an audio-ringing bang, his screams of pain filling the courtyard and making anyone in a fifty yard radius turn to look at the datapad he had been so excited about had fallen out of his servo when Sentinel pushed him, and ended up shattering next to the group of adults._

_Tears were now streaming down Optimus's silver faceplate, as he held the arm that had hit first close to his chestplates, trying his hardest to get himself up before Sentinel came back and yelled at him some more._

_Ironhide and Ratchet, whom had been watching most of the little scene, quickly ran over to the sobbing youngling. Ratchet cradled Optimus on his lap, murmuring a soothing series of notes as he checked over Optimus's most-likely broken arm. _

_"The elbow joint is shattered, and multiple ligaments are torn," Ratchet whispered to Ironhide, rocking Optimus back and forth, trying to calm him down to no avail. "I'm going to take him to my medbay to get it braced. I'm sure you'll take care of Sentinel for the both of us?"_

_"Guaranteed," Ironhide growled, glaring over at Sentinel. The mech was just standing there, watching them with very little remorse showing on his faceplate. He turned back to his mate and the poor little mech in Ratchet's arms. "Take care of him, Ratch."_

_"I will," Ratchet stood up, with Optimus whimpering into his shoulder. "Shh, you're going to be ok, little warrior." Ratchet left the courtyard so that he could take Optimus to his medbay, and get his arm taken care of._

_Now that Optimus was safe, and unable to watch what was about to happen, Ironhide stalked over to Sentinel Prime. His cannons cycled, as he began planning how he would make Sentinel pay._

_"Ironhide, is he alright? I did not mean to push him so far," Sentinel asked, his faceplate stoic, not even his voice portraying any amount of real remorse for what had happened to his adopted son._

_"You fragging son of a glitch! You broke his fragging arm! Do you not understand that he's serious pain, and that his SIRE caused it!" Ironhide screamed at the top of his vocalizer, fighting the desperate need to tear the mech limb from limb. "All he wanted was to show his sire the painting that he had made you, and the GREAT FRAGGING SENTINEL PRIME is just too important to take five nano-klicks to look at what his son made for him!"_

_"That is no way to talk to your leader, common mech," Dextrex hissed, sneering at Ironhide to show just how much more special he was. He promptly shut his mouthplate as soon as Ironhide aimed his cannons at his helm._

_"Ironhide, please calm yourself," Sentinel practically begged, slowly grabbing Ironhide's arm and lowering it to his side. "You act as if I intended to hurt my son. I would never intentionally hurt Optimus and you know that. It was an accident."_

_"If it was such an accident, why didn't you go to him when he was sobbing on the ground after his SIRE threw his across the courtyard?!" Ironhide questioned, servos on his hips. "Well?"_

_"You and Ratchet had it taken care of. I did not want to crowd him."_

_"Bullslag," Ironhide exclaimed, "You're his sire! When he's hurt, you're the mech he wants! After what you just did, though, I'm sure you're no longer his favorite mech."_

_And with another wirr of his cannons, Ironhide transformed and left the group of slagheaded idiots. He, not Sentinel, was going to see how Optimus was doing, and see if he could get custody of the little mech._

_After orns of arguing, doing endless amounts of paperwork, and completing a convincing case as to why Optimus should be taken away from Sentinel, their plea was ultimately denied. Simply because Sentinel was Prime, and had complete control of all the mechs on the court's jobs._

_And so little Optimus was brought back "home" simply to be ignored unless Sentinel needed him for some image promotion, and yelled at when he asked to be acknowledged._

**Same Jour-Other Side of Iacon**

_"Ultra Magnus, can you come down here for a klick?" Aquafrost called up the stairs of her very small home to her eldest child, looking over at the Enforcers watching her from the sitting room. "Hurry, sweetie."_

_A too-tall-for-his-age youngling, with a stocky frame ran down the stairs towards his carrier, whom had a painted smile on her faceplate. "What's wrong, carrier?" Magnus asked, feeling her pain and worry through the creation-creator bond. He may have only been 8,000 vorns old, but he wasn't stupid. His carrier was upset about something, and that's not okay._

_"Sweetspark, sit down." Aquafrost lead her son over to the tattered sofa in the sitting room, sitting down next to him. Small tears were trickling down her faceplate, following the trail of dried tears cried breems ago._

_"Now, Ultra Magnus, I'm afraid we have some bad news," one Enforcer said, leaning forward in his seat across from the family. "You see-"_

_"No, I need to tell him," Aquafrost interrupted, the Enforcer nodding and sitting back a bit. "Sweetspark, your sire had an...accident at work. A mech had been robbing an energon station when your sire was on duty. The mech had a weapon and ended up shooting your sire. He offlined before anyone could get to him."_

_"But...but I didn't feel him offline," Magnus murmured, holding his servo to his chestplate, directly above his spark._

_"He blocked the bond when he work, you know that. I'm so sorry, Magnus, but it is true." Aquafrost answered calmly, trying to hold her son only to get shoved away._

_"NO! He can't be offline! He-he can't be!" Ultra Magnus's voice was cracking, as he stood up and ran up to his room. The door slammed shut, making Aquafrost jump, more tears falling from her optics._

_"We'll be taking our leave. I'm so sorry for your loss."_

_"Thank you," Aquafrost replied, watching the two Enforcers leave the house. As soon as she was alone, the femme immediately broke down._

* * *

_After about three breems throwing everything in his quarters on the other side of wherever it had been before and trying desperately to contact his sire in vain, Ultra Magnus curled up in his berth, doing a mix of screaming and sobbing into his pillow._

_His sire couldn't be offline, he had promised that he would take him racing once he got back from work, to help Magnus get used to his new T-cog; and now they could never do that together._

_Why did his sire have to offline? It wasn't fair! Had he done something to upset Primus that made Him want to punish their family? The obvious answer was no, but try telling that to a sparkbroken youngling._

_A soft knock on his door made Magnus look up from his now moderately damp gel pillow. "Yeah?" He croaked, his voicebox raw from screaming._

_"Sweetspark, can I come in?" The femme on the other side of the door was leaning on the metal frame of the door, fully aware that her son might not want to talk to her for a while._

_The longest, quietest klick passed before Magnus answered. "...Sure..."_

_Aquafrost opened the door to her son's room, and walked over to his berth. "How are you feeling?" She asked, sitting down next to her eldest._

_"Why did he have to offline?" Ultra Magnus looked at his carrier with wide optics, a few stray tears falling down his cheekplates._

_Aquafrost wiped the tears away, and pulled Magnus into her arms. She rubbed his backstruts, murmuring "I don't know why Primus decided to take your sire home, but I'm sure He had a good reason."_

_"I want Him to give me m-my sire back," Magnus whimpered, hiccuping as he tried to stop crying. He burrowed into his carrier's chestplates, wrapping his tiny arms around Aquafrost's mid-section._

_"Shh, sweetspark, I know you do." Aquafrost rocked her son in her arms, unable to calm him down. Then an idea entered her processor. "Do you want me to sing to you?"_

_Magnus looked up at his carrier, confused for a nano-klick, before nodding. "Please?"_

_Aquafrost decided on singing the song she used to sing to Magnus when he was a sparkling and wouldn't recharge. "Lullaby and goodnight, with crystals bedight_

_With energon o'er spread is sparkling's wee berth_

_Lay thee down now and rest, may thy recharge be blessed,_

_Lay thee down now and rest, may thy recharge be blessed,_

_Lullaby and goodnight, thy mother's delight,_

_Bright angels beside my darling abide,_

_They will guard thee at rest, thou shalt wake on my chest,_

_They will guard thee at rest, thou shalt wake on my chest."_

_Aquafrost looked down at her son, smiling when she saw his mouthplate hanging open; his shutters closed, fans off, intakes slow and relaxed..._

_He was in recharge_

**40,000 Vorns Later**

A small hospice room, walls that are white but not blindingly cliche; a few machines beeped occasionally, but other than that the room was quiet. Almost silent. There was one berth in the center, a chair next to it. Both pieces of furniture were currently occupied. One mech was in the chair, arm in a sling, staring at the berth.

A berth that happened to contain the other mech. Weld marks and mesh pads covered his lower chestplates, right underneath his spark chamber. Chestplates open a crack, so that wires could sneak into his chamber and closely monitor his spark.

Ultra Magnus's partner, Skyburner, had been waiting outside for him so that they didn't overwhelm the mech, but he would also be there if something went wrong; which it did. He had run into the house after he heard two shots go off. One had landed itself in Magnus's chest, the other in Streewise's helm. The poor mech had offlined himself as soon as Magnus hit the ground.

Skyburner had called for a med-transport, and they brought Magnus to Ratchet's hospice. He had immediately been brought into surgery, where they attempted to remove the round and fix the damage done.

He had offlined on the table twice before they stabilized him.

Now, three jours later, Magnus was still unconscious and Optimus was starting to really panic. Ratchet had tried to reassure him, by lying and saying that it was very common for mechs to stay under for a while after a major surgery and offlining twice, but it wasn't. And Optimus knew that.

All they could do was wait and pray to Primus for a miracle.

A soft knock on the door made Optimus jolt, turning his helm to see his good friend and personal medic walk in. Ratchet handed Optimus a cube of energon, and three capsules, knowing that the other mech wasn't going to if someone didn't make him.

"Thanks," Optimus croaked, his voice raw from the tears he had shed earlier, popping the pills into his mouth, taking a sip of his energon to help them down. He continued to drink the energon, his tanks thankful for not being empty any longer.

"No problem," Ratchet spoke softly, "You need to take better care of yourself, Optimus. Magnus would maim you if he knew that you weren't taking your medication, or drinking energon, or using your crutch, or recharging properly..."

"I'm sorry," Optimus murmured, looking down at the ground. He knew that his sparkmate would be furious when (if) he learns that Optimus was neglecting his own health, but he was just so filled with worry, that he kept forgetting.

"I know you are." Ratchet crouched down next to Optimus, reminded of the small youngling with the broken arm, begging him to make the pain stop. "But offlining yourself isn't going to help Magnus. Take care of yourself so that you can help him come back to us."

Optimus nodded his helm, two small tears falling from his optics. Ratchet carefully wiped them away, pulling Optimus into a hug; he made sure not to pull too much on Optimus's sore shoulder.

Optimus wrapped his free arm around the medic, crying into the mech that had practically adopted him when his sire didn't care anymore. Ratchet and Ironhide had played with him when he was bored and lonely, they had taught him almost all of the morals that he now holds so dear, and...he first got overcharged with Ironhide when he was an adolescent.

"Shh, you're going to be okay, little warrior," Ratchet whispered, rubbing circles on Optimus's backstruts.

Optimus looked up, chuckling softly, "I'm not very little anymore, Ratchet."

"Doesn't matter. You'll always be my little warrior."

Optimus smiled, his spark lifting from the painful crevice it had been in for the past few jours. "Thank you, Ratchet."

"Anytime, youngling."

**If someone can guess the full title of the song Magnus's carrier sings to him, I will give you a prize. Or something.**

**Also, don't expect such quick updates for a while. School will be starting for me soon.**


	11. Magnus's Family

**Chapter 11: Magnus's Family**

An orn had gone by since Magnus had been shot. A long, agonizing orn for anyone who cared about him. All of his physical injuries were mostly healed, but he still hadn't woken up. Ratchet kept saying that Optimus needs to start thinking about an entombment plan for them both, but Prime refused to give up on his mate. Magnus was going to make it through this, there was no other option.

Optimus, being the Prime, had been forced to go back to work, no matter how desperately he wanted to stay by his mate's side. The only reassurances were that the medics knew his comm. number, and would contact him immediately should anything change. Magnus's carrier, Aquafrost, and her sparkmate, Zevulun (Magnus's step-sire), would be coming down soon as well; which made Optimus feel a little better, knowing that at least someone would be here with him. Someone who was feeling the exact same pain.

Aquafrost was a very sweet femme, and Optimus was very happy to have her as an in-law. She had loved Optimus since the moment Ultra Magnus had introduced them, and always approved of the couple's decision to bond.

Her sparkmate, on the other servo…

Zevulun had grown up in a family that believed that the Prime was a fake title, and anyone who claimed to be a Prime was a lying, pathetic piece of slag; whom they believed was the real spark of Primus is still a mystery. He also had a few very detailed opinions about Optimus as a 'bot, and was always willing to share them whenever Optimus was within audio-range.

He once told Magnus, while Optimus was in the other room helping Aquafire clean up some spilled energon curry, that he was mated to a scumbag that wanted him only for the publicity of having such a "scandalous" bonding, and that he was going to be kicked out of the family if he didn't leave Optimus.

Magnus had ended up punching Zevulun in the jaw, furious that anyone could ever dare say that about his sparkmate. It ended up being Optimus who helped fix the damage done and stop the leaking; he even gave Zevulun his mid-meal painkiller to say sorry for Magnus's behavior.

Optimus sat in his office chair, remembering how mad Magnus had been when he handed a mech that had just insulted him his only painkiller for the jour. He had ended up regretting it a little when they had to go home early because of how much pain he was in, but it was worth it to see the usually very reserved mech drugged up and giggling like a sparkling.

A soft knock on his door made Optimus look up from the data pad he was paying no attention to, and as soon as his proccessor registered what was happening he frowned behind his facemask.

Almost every jour, there was a new 'bot coming into his office to talk to him-either they had experience with losing a mate, they wanted to send him their condolences, or they just wanted to tell him that they were there for him should he need a shoulder to cry on.

Most of them just wanted to get under his plating, and were sick enough to think that this was a good time to try.

"Come in," he almost groaned, ready to deal with whomever was behind the door. He smiled when the door opened to reveal an older femme with dark blue paint, and red and silver highlights on her legs, arms, and helm.

"Now is that any way to treat your carrier-in-law?" Aquafire smirked, walking over to the desk.

"I'm sorry, Aquafire, I've been getting rather...irritating visitors lately." Optimus stood slowly, his joints creaking under the pressure. Using the desk as a sort of crutch, he walked over to the much smaller femme and gave her a hug, pecking her cheekplate with a kiss. "It's good to see you."

"I do wish it was under better circumstances," Aquafire murmured, "I am happy to see you as well, Optimus."

"Why don't we sit?" Optimus suggested, his servo gesturing over to the chair in front of his desk for guests. His legs had cramped up earlier and were begging him to sit down _now._

"Good idea, sweetspark, you don't look good." Aquafire smiled, and sat down in the chair offered to her.

Optimus frowned, forgetting how good Aquafire was at reading 'bots if she so desired. He sat back down in his own seat. "Where is Zevulun?" he questioned, subconsciously hoping that the mech was unable to come.

"He's at our hotel with Neve, and Windfly, checking us in," Aquafrost answered. Neve was Magnus's little sister; she had a sparkmate named Beatsplinter, but she must not have been able to come. Windfly was their son, and if Optimus's memory was correct, he was almost five thousand vorns.

"Nonsense! My apartment is big enough for all of you to stay comfortably. There is no need to stay at a hotel," Optimus remarked, knowing that the only reason a hotel was even an option was because of Zevulun.

"It's fine, Optimus. We don't want to-"

"You're not a burden, and I know that Magnus would have my helm if he knew you were staying at a hotel," Optimus insisted, his spark jolting when he said his mate's name.

"Alright, but Zevulun will not be happy."

"Is he ever happy around me?"

* * *

Optimus was waiting outside his apartment building, sitting on a rather uncomfortable bench. He was waiting for Aquafire to get everyone out of the hotel and come to the apartment. He had told her to take her time in convincing Zevulun to come anywhere near Optimus's home, so he wasn't expecting them to be there for a while. He pulled out a data pad, and started reading, trying to pass the time.

"Uncle OP!" Optimus's helm jerked up when he heard the squeals of a happy youngling. And then there was a small seakerling in his lap, little arms wrapped tightly around his neck. "I missed you lots!"

"I missed you too, little one," Optimus chuckled, placing the data pad back in subspace and hugging the youngling. He could see Neve running over, looking quite angry with her son.

"I'm sorry, Optimus, if I had know that he would leap at you like that I would have held onto him better," Neve apologized once she was next to Optimus, attempting to remove the youngling, who simply clung to Optimus tighter.

"It's alright, Neve, a lot of younglings have done this to me over the vorns. It's because of the matrix." He tapped his chestplates with the servos not holding Windfly. "They are drawn to it, since it is a piece of Primus Himself."

Someone scoffed.

"Hello, Zevulun." He chuckled to himself, looking around the youngling's chassis to see a tall mech, with a very large frown on his faceplate.

"That is bullslag and Iacon is fragging freazing," Zevulun complained, glaring at Optimus.

"Sweetie, don't swear in front of Windfly," Aquafire lightly chastised.

"I agree with you, Zevulun, on the fact that it is rather cold," Optimus smiled, trying his hardest not to yell at the rude slagger. Only truly awful mechs swear in front of younglings. "Why don't we go inside and get all of you settled."

"Here, let me take Wind-" Neve started, before her son interrupted her with a loud, screeched 'no.'

"I can handle him, Neve," Optimus assured, even though he wasn't sure himself. He stood up, albeit a bit unsteady. He did not bother to grab his crutch; both of his arms were occupied with keeping Windfly secure. "Could someone please grab my crutch so that it is not left outside?"

Aquafire grabbed it.

They all entered the building, Optimus informing Foghorn that the other's were not a threat. Optimus struggled a bit on the stairs, but didn't show it. Windfly was talking to Optimus the whole time, about some friends he had at academy and why they're all really silly.

"Windfly, I need to put you down for a moment," Optimus told the youngling once they reached his apartment.

"Why?" Windfly asked, tilting his helm to the side.

"Because I need to open my door, silly," Optimus answered. Reluctantly, Windfly let go of Optimus. He slipped down onto the floor, and watched with fixation as Optimus typed in his code, and gasped when a scanner came out and scanned Optimus's optics.

The door slid open and, too excited to stay still, Windfly ran right past Optimus and into the apartment. Neve sighed, apologized to Optimus, and then ran in to collect her over-excited son. The rest of the group walked in after them, much calmer.

Windfly was running around Optimus's living room, Neve trying to catch the wild youngling. Of course, once Optimus walked over, Windfly instantly went running straight over to him.

"Up!" the youngling cried, holding both his arms towards Prime.

"Windfly, you are not listening to your carrier, and therefore you will not be getting what you desire until she says it is alright," Optimus looked down at the youngling with an authoritative, yet still kind, face.

Windfly looked down at the ground, "Sorry...I was excited."

Neve stepped in, and explained to her son why listening to her was important. The family got settled in two of the nicest rooms they'd ever been in, Aquafire laughing at how if these rooms were so nice, what did Optimus's room look like. They were sitting in the living room, talking about whether they should bring Windfly when they go to see Magnus or not.

Then Optimus got a comm. message.

Magnus was awake.

**Thank you, Autobotgirl2234, for all the wonderful reviews. They made me smile. It is actually the reason this was done so quickly. I got inspired by you.**


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